


An End, Once And For All

by aybeexinfinity



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alternate Ending, F/M, Happy Ending, Mass Effect 3: Extended Cut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 19:19:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3393218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aybeexinfinity/pseuds/aybeexinfinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shepard wakes up in the hospital months after the events with the crucible.</p><p>This is totally how the third game ended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An End, Once And For All

**Author's Note:**

> So Mass Effect ruined me (and continues to do so every damn time I replay it). I was never satisfied with the ending, like a lot of people, so I sort of....wrote my own extension of what happens after? It takes places after the extended ending of the last game and is essentially a giant love letter to all my favourite characters, jokes, places, etc.
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: I have done my best to make Commander Shepard as universal as possible, trying not to include any specific descriptors because I know there are so many variations of her. However, I have downloaded and played through almost all the DLC so I do make reference to a lot of it. I guess that means this is a spoiler alert.
> 
> ALSO, I will go down with my Shakarian ship, so if you are vehemently against Shepard/Garrus I don't think you'll like this very much. Maybe down the road I'll rewrite this with Shepard/Kaidan or some other popular pairing, but for now I went with my favourite ship!
> 
> All that said, I hope this helps to bring you some closure.

A lot of things were happening at once. A lot of contradictions were happening at once. For Shepard, it felt like death should have been a lot less chaos and a little more order. Slow-paced. It was, after-all, eternity. But things felt altogether blaringly loud and deafeningly silent. Her nervous system, though due to disconnect from her body any time now, could  _feel_ the nothingness swallowing her whole. It wasn’t like this last time. Not at all. When she got spaced, it all happened so quickly. Choking alone for a few minutes in space, watching most of the crew’s escape pods fading into the far-away safety of Citadel space; that was a death she could handle. It was quick, easy, clean. Not like this.

Most disorienting though was the light. Whether or not her afterlife memories had been wiped after the Lazarus project, she couldn’t say. But she remembered the feeling—if not the actual existence—of a warm and ever-present darkness. Not that it was bad, it simply was. Just an absence of light. An absence of life. This light though, what was it? The blinding of the other side? Had she somehow managed to make it on the guest list now? Or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe heaven was a peaceful darkness, a release from the overstimulation of the universe. And maybe the bright light was hell’s oncoming rage, a shitstorm of noise and feeling and too-much-ness. Or maybe none of it was real at all.

This was taking too long.

 The light just kept getting brighter and brighter, until she could see the blurry scene of thick black eyelashes making way for the source of ungodly whiteness. And that’s when the panic set in.

She felt all-too disjointed from her body to make sense of anything. Half-way in between limbo and whatever this place was, she was vaguely aware of limbs going into spasm. It was almost like watching a movie, until the sound kicked in. The god-awful noise. It was abhorrently loud; all this beeping and humming and crying and screaming somewhere in the distance. They were yelling—who was yelling? And then she remembered, she remembered absolutely everything. _Reapers_. It was as if the word alone reeled her consciousness all the way into her body. No mercy, no easing in, just a brick wall collision. Where was she—still at the crucible? Did it fail? Did _she_ fail? _Reapers. Hundreds of them. Attacking Earth. The Citadel. The Illusive Man. The boy from the dream. Anderson._

Her lungs hauled in all the oxygen they could manage, these deep gasping breaths that expanded her body to its limits before shrinking down only to do it all over again. Her gun, she needed her gun, where was her gun? Did she even have her hands anymore? Yes, because they were scraping against the material beneath her.

“Commander Shepard! I must ask you to relax! All zis thrashing will only harm you!”

The voice—it wasn’t the little boy. It wasn’t the catalyst speaking—why did she sound so familiar? Her body refused the command, though. She had a job to do, she had people depending on her. _The whole universe depends on this mission being seen. To whatever end_.

“Dr. Chakwas, she iz not responding to ze sedative!”

“Miss Lawson said that was likely. Up the dosage and notify the contacts. They’ll want to hear the news.”

“What? We don’t even know if she’ll make it. Even if she does, there’s no telling if she’ll be the same.”

“Oh she will, Dr. Michel. If there’s anything I’ve learned in the past few years, it’s that the universe makes exceptions for Commander Shepard. _There_ , she’s stabilizing. Now if you would please, the dossier is on file along with the most recent contact information. I have preparations to make.”

And then a return to the darkness. Why did it feel safer here? The darkness couldn’t lie to her. Couldn’t tease her with strange visions and distant voices and prevent her from remembering what she…what… there was something that needed to be done. What was it? Something important… _Why can’t I remember? Maybe I’m not supposed to. This is it, after all…_

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

When the darkness released her again, it was kinder. Like a wave gently pushing you off. In small increments it took her to the body that felt familiar, the body that felt sore, the body that felt drugged up with half the stock of any given med bay. A deep breath escaped her lips as grogginess slowed her return. It felt strange, like waking up from an unplanned nap and you can’t tell if the sun is setting or rising. Her senses faded back only to be pulled to a commotion. Noise, someone yelling close to her. She slowly became aware once more of her body, felt her place in it, felt right.

“Sir, if you can’t calm down I’m going to have to restrain you.” An Asari in all white was trying to reason with the voice—that much she could see. Even as she eased her head up to try and see better, the fighting continued.

“You don’t seem to be _grasping_ the situation. I’ve taken down a hundred Asari commandos before. No stasis field is going to keep me out of that room. Now you can either step aside or see how determined I _really_ am to get past you.”

The blurriness left her eyes and she could finally see things clearly. Whose idea was it to make these places so white? As if the lights weren’t bright enough. As if blood needed to be any bolder when spilled. But these things were secondary, they were inferior to the inner workings of her mind staring at the source of yelling and identifying it.

“ _Garrus?_ ” The sound that left her throat was croaky, like she had lost her voice. But the noise alone was enough to draw everyone’s attention. The Turian’s eyes immediately found hers and his whole body faltered. The Asari seemed just as stunned, but the situation dissolved with the addition of a voice of reason. Of peace.

“Let him pass.” Dr. Chakwas said from the doorway, staring at the now-conscious patient. The Turian didn’t wait. He pushed past the nurse and sped to the bedside, hesitating only to survey the damage before sinking into the flimsy mattress at her side. Shepard calmed considerably at the sight of him and suddenly it all made sense.

“So I am dead, then.” She said with resolve. By some miracle she had made it to the good place. To where she could pretend to be with people who mattered to her. Where her mind could concoct a perfect finish to a horrible, bloody, disastrous, hopeless ending. The Turian’s eyes watered—a sight she had yet to see—and he reached his hand up to her face. It was so timid, so reserved, as if pressing too hard would break her. Would undo her very existence. Would somehow fracture her again. After he had a moment to compose himself, his hand lowered till it found hers.

“No. I wouldn’t let you get away that easily.”

This stunned her. _Alive. I’m alive. Is this a trick? Was this just what I wanted to believe_? But if that were true, she imagined that she wouldn’t feel the pain. The realization made her head spin and her heart race as she realized that important things still needed to be dealt with. The questions formed ten at a time at the base of her throat but she buried them away in favour of sitting up. The gesture made her wince but she would have endured it, would have swung her legs over the edge of the bed and found the nearest gun and armor and marched right back into battle because it’s what needed to be done. If only the Turian didn’t block her, didn’t prevent her escape.

“I have to get back out there.” She said quickly, moving to pull his hands away. He all but held her down and waited till her attention was his to speak.

“Shepard—you don’t. It’s over. You did it. We won. The Reapers are gone.”

This was harder to fathom than her being alive. She let the words hang in the air for a while, searching his eyes for some hint of a lie said just to calm her—but that wasn’t Garrus. Not even if he wanted to. He knew how important their mission was—hell she’d made him leave her on Earth and he did, likely knowing she wouldn’t live to see him again. He always told her the truth. But still, it didn’t feel possible. Dr. Chakwas stood to the side holding a datapad, watching her intently but offering a small smile and nod when Shepard looked her way.

“The Normandy crew—past and present—how…how many did we lose?”

“None.” Garrus said with a nod. “We all made it out alive, thanks to you. The cycle is broken. The Universe _entirely_ in your debt. Though I think everyone agrees it’s worth the wait to be able to thank you in person.”

“Anderson—he was with me on the Citadel. At the crucible, he was there. What’s his status?”

“Admiral Anderson was beyond our aid when we found him.” Dr. Chakwas said, stepping forward with heavy shoulders. “And you nearly were as well. In fact, if it wasn’t for the intel Miranda provided us with from the Lazarus Project, I doubt you would be here to have all these questions for everyone’s well-being except your own.”

“That’s Shepard.” Garrus said quietly, shaking his head but holding onto her hand a little tighter. She frowned at the both of them and looked off at the wall, trying to make sense of it all. It somehow didn’t matter as much that she’d succeeded—that was an effort credited to everyone in the galaxy—because she knew there were so many more that she’d lost. People she’d never met, people whose names would forever hold no recognition in her mind. How many families had been destroyed because of how long she took? How many mass graves would be needed to house the dead? _How much blood is on my hands?_

“You’ve got an old friend waiting to say hello.” Dr. Chakwas moved over to the screen at her right and signalled the incoming transmission. The monitor buzzed to life and Admiral Hackett’s face spread across the pixels. It was so strange, seeing all these familiar people. All these friends that she had nightmares about losing, about failing, about being responsible for. It was what had kept her going… It was what had pushed her to the end.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Shepard.” He said with a grin. There were a dozen scars now visible that would forever bear witness to his part in the war. “Karin said you just came to so I don’t want to bombard you with too much at once. But I had to see you, if just for a minute. Shepard I’ve got to tell you—what you did… Let’s just say not a damn person in this galaxy can question anything you do ever again. I’m not just thanking you for my life…my family’s…or humanity’s survival. I’m thanking you for _everyone’s_.”

“I uh…I’m just glad we got the job done, sir. We took heavy losses.”

“We saved more than we lost, Shepard. I need you to remember that—because everyone else certainly will.” He looked at her for a moment before nodding. “Good to see you Garrus. How’s Palaven?”

“It’s rebuilding.” He said distantly, eyes focused on Shepard.

“If we have people to spare, they’re yours. But Shepard I’ll let you rest up. If you need anything, you come to me and I’ll see it done. Take things easy, we all want you in one piece. Hackett out.”

No part of her imagined this would be the finale to her third consecutive suicide mission. Because as glad as she was that it was over, that they had won, a small part of her wondered if she would have been better off wherever Anderson was. This place beyond where she could see Thane and Ashley and Mordin. At least there, nothing could change. But here, in this place, the Reapers were just the biggest bad. And no doubt when the galaxy patched itself back together again in ten, twenty, even a hundred years, things would go back to normal. And normal meant only catching one slaver ship in five. Normal was tainted eezo being sold to desperate buyers. Normal meant inter-system drug cartels that could do more than make you see sounds. She was just one person, and the Alliance was just one group, and there was an entire 50,000 years of history to attest that all the defenders of Citadel space couldn’t permanently eradicate those who did bad things.

But here, she had hope. She could make a difference. Here, she had Garrus. She had Liara and Tali and Urdnot Wrex. She had Kaidan and Grunt and Vega. She could see Jack and Jacob and Miranda again, could see what this world would make of Kasumi and Joker and Samara, even Zaeed. What the world would make of them all—if this catastrophe would change anything if only for a while. In death she could exist, but here she could _live_.

“Garrus, I’m going to have to run a few diagnostics on her just to see where we’re at with the recovery.” Dr. Chakwas was typing away on the datapad and consulting her omni-tool as she approached. Shepard suddenly felt all-too aware of the hospital grade clothing and this setting that had always made her uncomfortable. She was never good at this kind of undivided attention, except from Garrus—and never in this context. The doctor came close but the Turian refused to move.

“I’ll be fine, I’ll come find you when it’s done.” She said with a small smile. A feeble attempt at reassurance. But it didn’t work, and the most he did was get to his feet.

“Shepard, I lost you already. _Twice_. If you think I’m _ever_ going to let you out of my sight again…”

“It shouldn’t be a problem, Mr. Vakarian.” Dr. Chakwas was laughing, but her hands were already working away. The Turian reluctantly let go of Shepard’s hand, but stood firmly at her side. The omni-tool glowed orange in front of her while the rest of the world buzzed on. With the touch of a button Dr. Chakwas sealed the door to the room, enclosing them in quiet. “Your vitals are looking good. Better than expected to be honest given how we found you. All your implants and cybernetics are holding up, and given your level of coherence I can’t foresee any immediate psychological damage. You have shown considerable progress given your short time here.”

“Speaking of here, I didn’t even bother to ask.” Shepard watched as Dr. Chakwas typed away at her omni-tool and filled her IV with a few different substances. “How about a bit of an update?”

“You’re in Vancouver, Commander. Where you have been for almost nine months now. Originally you were meant to stay in a hospital closer to London, but the overflow was so great that we didn’t want to risk it. I pushed for you to be brought here immediately—I was worried that the debris from the Citadel would cause further damage to London.”

“Debris?” She asked, sitting up. The action earned her a look from the doctor who quickly pushed her back down. “What happened?”

“Two of the arms severed almost completely from the Citadel after you used the Crucible.” Garrus explained. Shepard struggled to remember the details of that place. The memories were soaked in faded pain and confusion.

“I…I remember he—the catalyst, it said that the mass relays would be destroyed.”

“Not so much destroyed, but they were heavily damaged by whatever energy the Crucible released. That was our first priority, though it was a shock for the whole galaxy to be in the dark for so long. But just like with the Crucible, the galaxy proved it could achieve some pretty great things when all their asses were on the line.”

“Despite the good readings I’m going to want to do some follow up tests in the near future.” Dr. Chakwas said, detaching the IV before standing back and typing up additional notes on the datapad. Shepard took that as her cue to get up, and so she kicked the blankets off and rotated her shoulders a few times. Dr. Chakwas watched as the twice-dead soldier got onto her feet and put her body through some of the usual motions, all limbs moving as they should. “I’ve arranged for a shipment of pain medication to be delivered to you, should you need it. I do warn you to be weary of the dosage as I don’t want you taking any risks—that means keeping out of the line of fire, although I doubt my recommendation will hold much weight if you feel you’re truly needed.”

“Don’t worry doc, I’ll keep her grounded.” Garrus said with a small smirk. “Whether she likes it or not.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Dr. Chakwas pressed the touchpad on the glass doors of the room to turn them dark, providing the privacy she would need to put real clothes back on. Shepard thanked her just before she left, although the _thank you_ felt wholly lacking in comparison to what she’d done for her. “Just _try_ to let your body mend. And Shepard…Thank _you_. It has been a privilege to know you, and an honour to call you my friend. One day soon, when we both have the time, I’ve still got that bottle of Serrice Ice Brandy waiting to be opened…so you can be sure I’ll keep in touch.”

At that the doctor left them, immediately swept away by a nurse to someone who required the attention, before the doors closed behind her. Garrus helped her find the clothes that had been brought for her at some point in time, and turned to the locker where her belongings were stored while she shed the flimsy layer that marked her as fragile. When she was in her own alliance clothes he handed her relics of a distant memory: her comm device, her Alliance dog tags, her victory ring, and lastly a small and fractured holo of the smug looking Turian before her. She rolled her eyes at his smirk, snatching it out of his hands and slipping it into her back pocket.

“I noticed you kept the one where my face was half blown off by a rocket.” He said, taking a step closer and gently placing a hand on her waist. “If you’re feeling a little nostalgic I’m sure there are still a few mercs who made it back to Omega that would love to do a little facial deconstruction.”

“Hate to break it to you, but I kinda like having you around.” She felt stronger the more she was up. As if the revamped implants of the Lazarus Project worked better with more effort. Flipping her hair out from under her shirt collar, she was suddenly aware of the length. Finding the closest reflective surface, she lightly tugged at the ends. It made sense, that her hair would have grown. But it made her look different; at first she itched to chop it off back to the length she’d always kept it, but the more it swayed around her shoulders the more she figured maybe accepting a change this small would help her face the changes yet to come. Garrus reached a hand up and pushed her hair back.

“It looks good long.” He remarked as she moved closer. It terrified her how much of an anchor he’d become. He’d been there since the beginning; through every suicide mission, through every twist, enduring every walk into hell she ever enlisted him in. And here he was to help her find a place again in the world. Her grip tightened on the collar of his dark blue shirt as he lowered his voice. “Besides, it’s something more to hold onto.”

She didn’t bother to hide her smirk, and instead pulled him close to kiss him. The gesture felt like a deep breath out, like a prize at the end of a finish line, a warm blanket on a cold night, a long-overdue nap. It felt like a reward and a rescue all at once.

“C’mon.” He said after she finally released him. “I’ve got a ship ready to take us to the Citadel.”

He led her to the door and she took one last look at the hospital room—the chamber that had housed her recovering body for almost a _year_ —before following after him. She slipped the dog tags around her neck, noting that although Hackett hadn’t officially said so, these tags likely pointed to her status in the Alliance was still active. She wondered if the Council had revoked her Spectre status—in fact, with every step they took towards the elevator memories of the most recent events (in her mind at least) began to flood back. A more detailed picture of the end, of what it was really like. The fear, the panic, the carnage and absolute decimation of those on Earth at the heart of the attack. Anderson. Then she recalled her time in the Crucible. Yes, she had wiped out the Reapers…but the entire Geth race as well. And EDI. _Oh God, EDI._ She wondered if Joker would even want to see her again.

All this guilt racked up inside her as people greeted her left and right. She put on a stiff smile and nodded to them, mind automatically spewing out well wishes and motivational words. She remembered Legion and all the others who were gone. Again Anderson came to her mind, the last encounter with the Illusive Man on the Citadel—and she remembered the feeling of her finger pressing the trigger. The sight of the bullet piercing through Anderson’s gut. It didn’t matter to her that it was the Illusive Man’s manipulation. All she could focus on was the fact that if she had been stronger somehow…if she could have held on, Anderson might’ve been saved. Might’ve still been alive. And by the time the elevator doors closed and gave the two of them a break from the interaction, Shepard felt like the world was closing in. She bent over, bracing herself on her knees and taking deep breaths.

It had been different before. When she got called into a mission or woken up from a death-sleep she had a clear mission. Definitive steps to be followed with no time to falter. No time for second-guessing or any _real_ worrying. But now there was nothing. Now, what did she have: a trip to the Citadel? A galaxy of people who would likely want to know what happened up on the Crucible? She couldn’t help but think about all the people who would say she made the wrong choice. How many people out there who would’ve been on the side of the Illusive Man. But she had felt the fury of the Reapers; she did not want to feel that power.

“Shepard?” Garrus placed his hand on her shoulder but the contact only succeeded in undoing her. She never had the luxury of crying. All these years, all she could do was bide her time until crisis mode was activated and she moved into action. But now it was like all the nightmares, all the panic and fear and blood and the ever-expanding body count were hitting her all at once. “ _Sera!_ ”

Her knees slammed into the metal flooring. Behind closed eyes she saw brutes and husks and banshees and cannibals. Why didn’t it seem to matter that these creatures were now wiped from existence? Why couldn’t she just be happy with the fact that they’d won? _Because it doesn’t feel like winning. Not with so many dead_. She was stuck in this swirl of fear and depression and anger most of all: because even with their entire race decimated the Reapers still had some control over her. Still affected the way she could exist in this world. The Turian gripped her shoulders and tried to calm her breathing, but settled for just holding her.

There was a time when all this would have made her feel weak. When the thought of crying, let alone in front of someone else, made her somehow _less_. That’s what growing up alone in the streets of a megatropolis will do to you. Hell even when she first enlisted in the Alliance, it all felt like one big pissing war. But she’d learned over the years that there were people you could count on, people you could trust; _People you would die a thousand brutal deaths to see live in a world of peace_. Her past self would cringe and curse as she let the Turian wrap his arms around her, as if she needed some sort of protection. But this wasn’t losing, this wasn’t a pathetic gesture of a weak animal. This was reminding herself that she was tied to other people, that she was tied to this grand spectrum of mental states and emotions that made organics the beautiful and destructive race they were. And though at first the tears were from years of pent up fear, they settled into tears of disbelieving joy. From here, she could find a way to be free. And despite all the death, the universe would continue on and things would eventually settle to be alright.

“I’m alright.” She used the collar of her shirt to dry her eyes and he helped her to her feet. Hands lingering on her waist, he studied her for a few moments before finally taking a step back. She nodded and repeated the words a few times, as if needing to affirm them herself for them to become true. When the doors opened to one of the hospital’s docking bays Garrus led her out. She made it through the corridor mostly unnoticed but as they drew close to the airlock door people began to recognize her. A few Alliance soldiers called out to her, offering a salute that she returned, before turning to their group.

She paused at the windows of the hospital to look at the sight of the world she’d once called home. It astonished her. _Where is the smoke? Where are the fires? Where’s the rubble and body piles and absolute destruction?_ She didn’t doubt that even nine months later there was a tremendous amount of work to be done, but she looked outside and saw hope. She saw a clear sky and moving space cars and people smiling and, everywhere, _life_. The eternal greens and blues that made up Earth were there to greet her, to remind her that a home planet still existed for everyone to recover on. When they passed through the airlock Shepard took in the writing on the metal siding for the first time. Two letters and a number that made her heart flutter. _SR2_. The Normandy. And of course, they wouldn’t let it be piloted by anyone other than…

“Welcome back, Commander.” Joker’s voice sounded over the comm system as they waited in the decontamination chamber. A muted grin took over her features at the sound of the only pilot she could fully trust her life to. “Sorry for the piss-poor welcome party. One ass-ugly Turian and a cripple isn’t all that exciting. But, you know, you were pretty much dead for like a year. Here I was expecting you’d go Cerberus Era on us again and be out for two!”

“Good to see you kept the ship in one piece.” Shepard said as they moved into the Normandy. Strange, that a metal hull and buzzing machines and lights could feel like more of a home than any city ever had. She went up to the pilot’s seat and he turned to face her, reaching out his hand to shake hers. “And yourself, for that matter.”

“Yeah well, my bodyguard is pretty smokin’.” He shrugged, nodding behind her. Shepard hesitated before turning around. “So you know, motivation to live and all that.”

“Hello, Shepard.” For a moment, she thought she was seeing a hologram. But the body was too real, too exact a copy of the companion she’d gone into battle with a dozen times over. But the body was also impossible; it shouldn’t have existed. Not after what she did.

“EDI?” Shepard walked up close, absently spinning the victory ring on her finger. EDI’s eyes watched the movement and a small smile took over her features. “How are you here?”

“As we came closer to understanding the uncertain nature of the Crucible, I decided it would be worthwhile to run probability matrixes of different outcomes. It made sense that a likely outcome is what ended up happening: the Reapers were a synthetic race. Logically, a force that could destroy synthetic machines would not differentiate between Reapers and others. So I made…arrangements.”

“That’s her way of saying she found a safe house to hide herself in while you went all destructo on us in the Citadel. You _do_ realize you broke a lot of stuff, right?”

“Joker.” Garrus said harshly. The pilot shrugged.

“What? I’m just saying…”

“Jeff is only bitter that he was stuck in one system for an extended amount of time.” EDI explained, walking over to the pilot’s side. “However my arrangements also helped salvage the Geth race, with the help of the Quarians.”

“I’m sorry?” Shepard raised an eyebrow, so certain she had sentenced all the Geth machines—heretics and not—to death.

“There was a 58% chance that all synthetic life would be destroyed. I approached the Geth collective and showed them my data and proposed solution. While the Geth that fought for you could not be recovered, all those which allowed my code into their system absorbed a masking code I hypothesized would keep our core programming safe from permanent destruction. Although it was…challenging, re-adjusting to existing outside of a physical shell.”

EDI grinned and folded her hands behind her back, waiting for a response. In the background Joker was bringing the ship back to life, calling out the necessary safety protocols and following regulations to get departure approval. Shepard opened her mouth to speak, but the AI beat her to the punch.

“I understand your decision to wipe out the synthetics, Shepard. I do not doubt your judgement and I believe that whatever you were faced with on the Crucible, it was the best choice for everyone. I am only glad my failsafe worked—they were only prototypes, after all.” She leaned closer but failed to lower her volume at all. “Jeff doesn’t find that joke very funny. His emotional attachment to me prevents him from finding humor in jokes surrounding my potential demise.”

“Course is set for the Citadel.” Joker interrupted loudly, clearing his throat. “ETA two hours.”

“C’mon.” Garrus motioned for Shepard to follow. “There’s something I want to show you.”

Shepard left the two comrades, revelling a moment in EDI’s blessed brilliance, before trailing after the Turian. It was strange to be able to greet all the familiar faces of the crew as they moved through the CIC. All these lives that could have slipped away; the thought of it reminded her of the Collectors and the hopelessness she’d felt when the whole crew had been taken.

Garrus led her into the old war room that had now lost its purpose but none of its technology. He pulled up the galaxy map, this screen that she spent hours and hours poring over. As if looking at it would somehow raise the projected readiness rating. As if seeing the incremental rise of acquired forces would guarantee survival. Only now, it wasn’t flashing red with imminent doom. It was all green. Garrus tapped a few buttons and nodded for her to come closer. Each section and system had the same word labelling it, repeated over and over around the whole map. _Safe. Safe. Safe_.

“I know what you’re focusing on in that head of yours, Shepard.” He said quietly. “All you see is a death toll. I need to make you understand just what kind of impact you had, what you still have on this galaxy.”

Individual planets were listed with population numbers of those who had been saved. At first it only served to make her feel horrid all over again, but he reminded her that had she not been the one chosen for this job, all these readings would have read zero. They would have all been dead—or worse: they would be modified and turned into slaves for the Reapers to make use of in the next cycle.

 _The next cycle_. It was hard enough for her to imagine what it must have been like for the Protheans: for them it took about a century to be harvested or repurposed. What races were taken 50,000 years before that? And before that? Just how far back did this cycle go? Leviathan said that for each cycle harvested, a Reaper was made. And they had been fighting so many in this war. Things that the catalyst said on the crucible still made her head spin, but when the thoughts threatened to take hold of her too tightly the Turian nudged her a little closer and reminded her of the present. Of the now. Of the _good_.

“I’m getting the sense this is still a lot to take in.” He leaned on the console and watched her, the flashing lights of the display reflecting in her eyes. She took a deep breath and let the silence hang between them for a while before shrugging.

“When I woke up, it didn’t feel like any time had passed. I thought I still needed to end things. To hear all this…and everything with EDI…I was so sure that the choice I made would’ve left the galaxy a lot emptier. It just…doesn’t feel real, Garrus.”

All he could do was nod. He didn’t bother trying to sympathize with her because he knew he would never be able to imagine the full scope of what she’d endured. So he turned off the display and led her out into the CIC, calling up the elevator. She let her fingertips press the button that would lead up to her old cabin, this reflex that so often felt like a deep breath out whenever she’d been on a mission. Any other level was traveled to for a reason. To speak with someone or get information or check up on her crew. To keep morale up and tend to the ship any way she could and keep the peace. But her cabin, this cabin that she walked in and greeted like an old friend, was the escape.

Here there was quiet. Here, she had control. No one to barge in with demands or questions. No one firing at her. No impending doom—if only for a while. She could play around with the customization of her armor or tap off the VI in charge of feeding the myriad of fish she’d collected across the systems. The collection of model ships filled the glass display above her desk—her eyes found the model of Sovereign that had been sold as a souvenir. It almost made her sick, but she needed it there as a reminder of what she was fighting against. Now it served as a trophy of sorts: a reminder of what she had _vanquished_. The green light was flashing on her private terminal and she wondered how many emails had accrued in her off-time.

She walked around these quarters that had housed so many nightmares. So many ups and downs and desperate moments. She’d retreated here when she questioned herself most; when she _doubted_ herself most. Slowly her body sank down on the edge of the bed and she heaved out a sigh. Garrus walked over but stopped a few feet in front of her.

“I feel like I should be out there. Helping somehow. Doing something other than just sitting idle.”

“No. Shepard— _Sera_. You’re going to take the giant payout that the Alliance owes you for saving the universe. You’re going to get rid of the notion that you owe every last minute of your life to helping everyone else. I’m going to be selfish, and I’m going to keep you to myself. Maybe a few humanitarian missions here and there, but no more suicide missions. Remember what I said on Earth?”

She looked up at him, trying to contain the small smile, and nodded. “Something about retirement and the tropics.”

“Any excuse to get you in a bikini.” He teased, sitting down beside her. The tone turned serious, though, and he took her hand. “We’ll find someplace the Reapers didn’t touch. You’ve done your part, Shepard. The universe can mend itself without you going all self-sacrificial on me again.”

She thought about him and this room. He always found her in the calm before the storm, always came to her the moments before the deep plunge into the abyss. Before they hit Earth, he reminded her that she had motivation to get it done. Before they went through the Omega-4 relay, he proved that even if they died, she wouldn’t be dying alone. That was the first time anyone had been there when she woke in the middle of the night to a cold sweat and a lingering nightmare. It had surprised her that he had stayed the whole night. Once they’d both gotten over the nerves and eased their stress together she’d expected him to call it a night. But he was right there to calm her breaths and still her heart. Hell, he probably would have been there before they went to Ilos if she hadn’t been so goddamn hesitant about things back when he first joined her crew. Some part of her knew, almost from the beginning, that there was something different about him. Something that drew her to him. Something that felt right.

She was just glad he felt it too.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” He asked quietly. She looked up at him and allowed herself a small smile.

“You know, I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without you.” She admitted, looking down at the spot where their bodies touched. “The rogue C-Sec agent who led us to Wrex and then Fist and then Tali.”

“Of course you could have.” He said simply. “Not as stylishly, of course. And you probably would have taken more fire without me covering your ass, but…”

“Garrus.” She said more seriously. “I mean it. I owe you a lot.”

He opened his mouth to say something but she kissed him before he could make another sarcastic remark. When he responded she crawled onto his lap and pulled the shirt up and over her head. He pulled away at this and asked what she was doing.

“What does it look like?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Joker _said_ we’ve got two hours. And we’ve got nine months of catching up to do.”

“You _just_ go out of the hospital, Shepard.” He pointed out. As if the fact was something that should make her stop. The reminder of how long she’d been out though only made her crave the contact even more. She needed to feel wholly alive. “Not that I’m complaining of course, but I did make a promise to Dr. Chakwas…”

“I need this.” Her voice was quiet. She needed something to help her forget all the things fighting for attention in her head; she needed something to remind her of all the things waiting to welcome her back with open arms. “I need _you_.”

His fingers traced over her torso and lingered on the fading bruises and recovering scars that stood as reminders of the end run.

“You know, I had a fun time explaining to the doc when they first got you to a med bay that not all those scratches were courtesy of Reaper forces.”

“I think the bite marks _may_ have given you away, Garrus.” She smirked. He laughed once before giving into her wishes. She stayed in position while he kissed her for a while before getting up to shed the rest of her clothes. He did the same and they reconnected in a series of hungry, desperate kisses. As if making up for lost time. As if it was the last time. And despite the fact that things were still swirling in her head, the more she was with him the more she felt at ease.

He lifted her up effortlessly, her legs locking around his hips as if they were two parts of a whole. In three strides he had her in front of the desk, and with one swipe of his hand the few items atop it were pushed to the side so he could set her down. She kept one arm behind his neck but supported herself on the desk with the other as he leaned close and pushed into her.

Breath expelled from both their lungs and he gripped her waist. She had to admit, when she’d first proposed hooking up during the collector mission she didn’t even know if it was biologically feasible. There hadn’t exactly been a time or place to ask someone about the likelihood that anatomy would be relatively the same across species. But with all the jokes about Krogan testicles and the fact that all male alien bathrooms had urinals, it shouldn’t have surprised her that Turians wouldn’t be far off from Humans.

But the difference mattered. Whether it was the fact that he was a Turian or that it was this _specific_ Turian, she couldn’t tell. All she knew was that being with Garrus was different than anyone else in her whole lifetime, in all her space-faring adventures. Maybe it was because they’d been together on so many critical missions and important parts of her life. Maybe it was the way his hands felt as they laid claim to her exposed skin. Whatever it was, she never felt so in tune with someone else in her whole life. Never felt like someone could so accurately sense how to move and where to touch and when to kiss.

He moved quickly, biting down her jaw and neck in a determined procession. Her back arched and his name left her lips, but only after running his tongue along her chest did he kiss her once more. He slipped a hand up her back and dragged a nail down her spine, forcing goosebumps over her skin. This was sweet release, this was a much-needed anchor, _this_ was the welcome party she wanted.

In a few words she managed to compel him to take them back to the bed. He let her push him backwards onto the spacefoam and crawl on top, pressing her hands to his torso and doing all the work. Neither of them would ever be able to forget the first time, because despite each having been with many people before, crossing the species line somehow made it feel like a whole new kind of virginity being taken. His blue eyes locked with hers, full of hunger, as he sat back up. Using his strength he took control again—as only he could—and turned so her back was amongst the warm sheets.

Again and again his hips pressed against her, all the while her lungs trying desperately to keep up with her heart rate. He didn’t need the custom-made visor to tell him the racing of her heart and see the sweat on her skin and register the warmest thermal zones on her body. She locked her hands behind his neck, nails occasionally digging in. He needed no direction; he was attuned to every signal that they had never established. The Turians had spirits for most important aspects of life—she wondered if they had one for the bedroom he was channeling. How else could he be so perfectly matched for her?

One of his hands tangled into her hair—a part of her that always intrigued him. It was an attribute restricted to Humans, and he spent a lot of time focusing on it when they were together. He kissed her again and her legs pressed in against his body. The more he moved against her, the more she could feel the tension building up. Her breaths became shallower and he took notice. He moved his other arm under her back so he could keep her tightly pressed against him.

“Garrus, I’m going to— _fuck_.” Her whole body shuddered in tandem with his before loosening again and sinking into the mattress. While she struggled to catch her breath and wipe the sweat from her brow he released her but made sure to stay close, his voice low beside her ear.

“I noticed.”

He lingered for a while before moving over and landing beside her, the two of them looking up at the glass ceiling. Outside, above them, an infinitesimal number of stars and galaxies flickered in the distance. She could have fallen asleep right there, for all the peace it brought her. She’d looked out the window of a travelling spaceship too many times to count, and so often with conflicting emotions. Sometimes with wonder, sometimes with despair, sometimes with hope, and sometimes without feeling anything at all.

That apathy scared her most.

The two of them laid there for a time she didn’t bother counting. Bodies slowly reeling back to normal from the encounter, hands finding each other amongst the wrinkled sheets. At some point she rolled onto her side and he turned to face her. She tried not to let the thoughts, the worries, the panic back inside. She wanted to savour the moment—but then she remembered she didn’t have to. This wasn’t the hour before a suicide mission; this was the first hour in a mostly peaceful reign to come.

She couldn’t possibly know what would come of the changes she’d forced upon the galaxy—cure for the genophage, end to the Quarian-Geth war, destruction of Cerberus headquarters—but she hoped at least _some_ bridges had been made. Some old wounds healed. Some grudges given up. She traced her fingers along the fading scars of the Turian’s face, trying not to notice the way he stared. Instead she moved herself closer to him until their bodies were touching and closed her eyes.

“If only we’d had a reunion like this after I recruited you on Omega.” She joked, opening her eyes to see his reaction. He laughed, rolling onto his back and letting her rest her head on his chest. “I still don’t know which side of you I like more—retired C-Sec Officer or Terminus-systems Vigilante.”

“Well you certainly had a hand in both of those outcomes. I never would have left C-Sec if you didn’t ask for my help with Saren.”

“That I can understand—but _Archangel_?”

“We were… _I_ was lost without you Shepard.” He said simply, turning to look at her. “I felt guilty. I kept telling myself I should have stayed with you on the Normandy, should have been there and maybe you wouldn’t have…Those two years were dark, Shepard. And then seeing you in the scope of my sniper rifle in the midst of a merc attack on the piss-hole of Omega…”

“You weren’t too shocked to keep the bullets off me.” She challenged, pushing herself up on her elbow.

“As you so frequently like to remind me.” He replied snidely. Then, in just a few seconds, all the teasing nature dissipated from him. He looked her in the eye and trailed a finger down her arm. “If I had thought—even for a second—that this was waiting for me…Maybe I wouldn’t have picked such a suicidal hobby. I still don’t understand why we’re here Shepard—I mean, you could’ve picked any Turian in the galaxy. Half the Hierarchy would’ve been eager to be in my place right now. Not to mention you still have a few breeding offers from the Krogans…”

“Please tell me you know by now that this isn’t just an alien fetish?” She raised an eyebrow at him and he laughed. “This is about me wanting the one person that was there for me no matter what… the person I care about more than anyone. I love you, Garrus.”

“As much as I believed in you and never doubted you…when you said that to me on Earth, I didn’t think I’d ever hear you say it again.” He admitted in a small voice. She cursed the way her eyes watered and settled for kissing him instead. When she moved away he lay a hand on her cheek. “But just for the record…I love you too.”

This affirmation somehow made things a little less gloomy. She could carry this memory with her—of an admission that did not come in the face of some impending doom or was pushed out in a cruel goodbye. Somehow this would help her endure the trying times that were no doubt waiting for her in the future. Of course she had managed before him, of course her strength and existence did not depend on the love of another; but _damn_ was it easier to walk through hell when someone was willingly by your side.

“If you and Garrus are done, uh, _calibrating_ you might want to come down to the CIC Commander.” Joker’s voice rang over the comm system. She rolled her eyes at his comment. “We’re approaching Alliance docking bay D-24.”

Part of her didn’t want to go down to the flight deck, didn’t want to look out the Normandy’s windows and see the extent of the damage. Because how could the sight be a good one? Years after Sovereign’s attack there were still parts of the Zakera Wards closed off. This had been much worse than parts of a single Reaper causing damage. The citadel had become the focal point of a galactic war. Shepard didn’t want to know how badly the places she’d grown used to had been damaged—like the Presidium Commons or the lower markets or the Embassies or Huerta Memorial. Did the Citadel Tower still stand? Did the _Council_?

“Shepard.” Garrus’ voice dragged her from her thoughts and she looked up at him. He sat up, pulling her with him and keeping a hand on her back. “I’ll be right behind you. Every step of the way.”

With a nod and a deep sigh she peeled herself away from him and got dressed again. There were still some checks that had to be done before they could get off the ship once they docked, so she wandered to her private terminal and dared to open it. There were so many unread messages that it overwhelmed her, but she scanned the subject lines and senders nonetheless. The majority of them were unfamiliar names, but there were some that she recognized amongst the masses: Kahlee Sanders, Jondam Bau, Samesh Bhatia, General Septimus Oraka, Shiala from the still-standing colony of Zhu’s Hope on Feros, General Corinthus, Major Kirrahe, Sha’ira the Consort, even a brief message from Gianna Parissini. She would eventually get around to reading them all, but at another time when the world didn’t still feel like a trick that would fade away any minute. There was one name, though, that pulled her attention enough to open the message now: Kolyat Krios.

_Commander,_

_If the vids are right, then maybe it’s possible my father’s prayers worked. While it may not be time for Kalahira to guide you, I hope that Arashu and Amonkira watch over you in the years to come. I wanted to thank you for everything you did for my family. I don’t know what would have become of me if you hadn’t urged my father to intervene. I thought you’d be happy to know that Councillor Valern honoured his word and has been funding research on Kepral’s Syndrome. I can only hope that council support and publicity will lead to a cure so that no other Drell need suffer as my father did. Thank you again Commander, and may these words find you in good health._

_Kolyat Krios_

She read over the words more than once before sitting back in the chair. The Cerberus attack on the Citadel seemed light years away, but the last moments with Thane in Huerta Memorial translated into memories still too raw. Looking back on the friendships she’d made since the horror show on Eden Prime, it made her think about whether or not she’d changed as a person. She was certainly different from the rough-edged girl running the streets on Earth with the Reds, but she wondered how much of her encounters with others had slowly molded her into something more.

“What is it?” Garrus asked, standing in front of her and leaning on the case of model ships.

“Just thinking about something Thane said once…That there comes a time for everyone to retire from war and battle.”

“And?” He pried gently. She took in a deep breath and let it out before closing her terminal.

“And I’m not sure if that applies to me.” She admitted, getting to her feet as the Normandy’s drive core hummed to a stop. Before she left, the sight of two important objects on the desk caught her attention. The crystal gifted to her by Urdnot Bakara that had gotten her through her trials as a Shaman, and the floating memory shard passed down from Javik that harboured the memories of a dead race. She hesitated before touching it, wondering if the Prothean cipher would work to fool the technology and allow her to store memories of her own. Keeping both items with her, she led Garrus down to the CIC.

“Commander…” Joker turned in his chair as Shepard braced herself in front of the airlock. EDI got to her feet and after a moment the pilot did as well. She knew there was something serious about to come out of his mouth when his tell-tale sarcastic smile faded. “I just…Look, leaving you behind on Earth…”

“I wouldn’t have had it any other way, Joker.” She said quickly, sparing him the trouble of finding the right words. But he shook his head and heaved out a sigh.

“It was like watching you go down with the Normandy from an escape pod all over again. Only worse, because I could have stayed.” The words weighed heavy on him, so she went up and gripped his shoulder. The gesture made him stand a little taller. “No one else could’ve done what you did. And I’m sure as hell glad we don’t have to put up another damn memorial.”

“No one else could’ve flown me around the galaxy well enough to have finished the job.” She smiled, nodding. The words seemed to put him at ease a bit and she saw the usual nature bubble back to the surface.

“When you’re up to it we should go back to that sushi place now that they’ve fixed it up. You know, if you can go a few minutes without getting shot at by _something_.”

“I still owe you those two umbrellas.” She teased back. Before she could leave the ship, though, EDI came up to her. Hovering for a moment, her eyes flickered down to the victory ring on her hand and a pensive look cloaked her face. And then without warning, the AI leaned forward and wrapped her arms around the Commander. “Uh…EDI? What are you doing?”

“It is referred to as hugging, Shepard. Organics frequently engage in this behaviour with those whom they admire or love. I wished to convey these…emotions to you.”

It made Shepard feel an overwhelming sense of guilt. That she condemned her to nonfunctionality along with all the Geth. But she responded by hugging her back, trying not to think about whether or not the body EDI was in could register what the sensation felt like.

“Well…” Garrus began when the two pulled away from another. EDI offered a smile before Shepard finally turned away. “Welcome back to the Citadel, Shepard.”

None of it seemed right. The view through the windows of the docking bridge didn’t make sense. Even all these months later, the citadel still should have been in ruins. They had to deal with getting the mass relays back in working order, finding a way to put the station together again, and transport it back to the Serpent Nebula while simultaneously dealing with the heaps of dead bodies and internal damage to the place. And yet somehow, it managed to look mostly habitable. There was a whole lot of visible damage, but as they neared the entrance to the docking bay, Shepard could see people from the viewing deck looking out at the infamous ship with wonder. And if people could do something as idle as watch ships fly in, that likely meant the rest of the Citadel had managed some semblance of life as it was before.

The airlocks vented for a moment, the familiar hissing noise providing a strange sort of comfort. During war time, she always used to match her breathing with the sound. A deep breath out to match the escaping air, and then she was prepped for her business on the Citadel. The door opened and she took a single step into the docking bay, looking at all the people gathered around. There were more soldiers than anyone else, each of them standing tall, standing proud, standing strong. However few their numbers had become, those survivors would band together. They offered salutes as she passed, Garrus leading her to the cab awaiting passengers near the elevator. He activated it and entered the destination, offering her a hand as the doors opened.

When the cab took off she could still see the throng of people gathered in the bay, watching her depart and talking amongst themselves. _I wonder what they have to say about a twice dead spectre._ The cab blitzed through the Citadel corridors, everything passing by in a blue-grey blur. It was impossible to miss when you entered the Silversun Strip, though, because suddenly the whole world around you turned neon. Whatever damage the rest of the place sustained, the strip looked obscenely normal. Almost offensive, considering what the rest of the galaxy would look like. It all seemed so normal. Like nothing happened. But beneath the newly-installed holographic signs, here and there was evidence of the scars that would take much longer than nine months to heal.

You just had to look close enough.

The scorch marks were small and masked, but they were there. The type of wounds people had to look twice to catch, and in this place people would be more than happy to focus on the bright lights and entertainment. But the scars would eventually heal. _All things do_.

Armax Arsenal’s arena signs plastered the wall they passed as the cab slowed down. Hovering for a moment, they waited as a Salarian and an Asari climbed out of their cab on the landing platform. Shepard could feel Garrus’ eyes on her as they made the short descent, the blaringly bright green sign for Tiberius Towers standing tall before them.

_“Is that…Commander Shepard?”_

_“I thought she was dead?”_

_“No, you idiot, she was in a coma.”_

_“But she did die once, didn’t she? A couple of years back. I thought for sure I saw it on the vids.”_

_“Yeah, but then she came back. I don’t know, it’s complicated I guess.”_

The doorman greeted them both as Shepard walked to the elevator that would take her up to the sixth level. Inside it was quiet save for the lame music. _Good to know some things don’t change._

“The news networks won’t be far away, now.” Garrus remarked. “Good thing Archangel is your boyfriend. I can be pretty convincing when I need to be.”

“I could just use my Spectre authority to make them back off. You know, say they’re impeding my… ongoing investigation.”

“Only a slight violation of basic rights, I suppose that’s progress.” He teased, evoking the smallest of smiles from her. She sighed heavily, taking a step closer to him as the elevator slowed. Her fingers wrapped around the dog tags hanging from her neck, and she gathered her strength. The first thing she would do was gather all the datapads lying around with recordings from Anderson. Get them all and put them somewhere safe, hell even copy the files to her omni-tool. She needed something more than memories to keep him with her.

The door to Anderson’s—to _her_ apartment—opened at her will and she stepped inside. The expectations of an empty shell of a place clouded by sadness and grief over Anderson, were not met. Instead of quiet sorrow she was greeted by the sight of familiar faces. By family.

Everyone had been talking, filling the place with a gentle hum, but the sight of her brought them all silent. All eyes found their way to her and the collective crew of the Normandy held their breath in anticipation of someone breaking the silence. _What do you say in a moment like this_? Somehow a casual greeting didn’t feel right. And so it fell to the VI to make a decision. The rotating orb fluttered over to the grand piano in the corner and began to play the song Liara had absently keyed in one of their last days on the Citadel. The music filled up the room and the VI floated over to Shepard, bouncing up and down a few times.

“Greetings Commander. I am pleased to see your health has improved.” Glyph announced. The words made her smile absently. “Doctor T’soni has been following your recovery very closely, your comatose state had her very worried and anxious for your return.”

“All of us were.” Liara admitted. Shepard met the Asari’s eyes and after a brief moment, she walked over and gently pulled the Commander into an embrace. “Goddess, it’s good to see you.”

“You too, Liara.” Shepard managed. Tali hovered close, awaiting her chance to welcome the commander back with open arms. Shepard could hear the quiet sniffling behind the Quarian’s mask, but made a point not to bring it up. Vega came up with heavy steps and Shepard extended her hand. “Good to see you, James.”

He accepted the handshake but then seemed to think better of it, pulling her into a hug. She hesitated a moment before accepting it, deciding now was the time to stop holding back.

“Like I told you before. I got you, Lola.” He said, almost forcing his usual cockiness. When they broke apart he put his hand on her shoulder. “Always.”

When Kaidan walked up to her she almost held her breath. Despite whatever pact they’d made that things were good between them, she knew Kaidan. She knew what she’d put him through down on Earth. Kaidan worked on a very deep and very intricate system of loyalty, of integrity, of trust. And while theirs had been repaired for the most part, her going off to die in the end run would have felt like a betrayal to him. Kaidan would have wanted to follow her right till the end, to _help_. So when he came up to her without words and a slightly strained expression, she braced herself for one hell of a speech. Instead, though, they hugged it out. Besides the song gently playing in the background, the place was silent until a confession escaped the Alliance Officer.

“I didn’t think you were coming back, Shepard.” He watched as she pulled away and gripped his arms.

“But I did, Kaidan.” If she hadn’t, he wouldn’t have ever forgiven himself. Now, he could have some peace.

The other crewmates took turns coming up to her, and she exchanged blurred greetings with all of them. Half way through the line-up, Joker and EDI joined them. It felt surreal, having everyone in once place, just like it had the night of the party. _Not everyone. Not the ones I’ve lost_. She absently shot a glance up towards her bedroom, and felt a sudden need to revisit the mementos of Thane and Mordin that were left for her. As if the universe knew she would one day need them.

“Look I, uh…I know you all must want to hear the details, but I’m still having trouble figuring out if this is all just a dream and I’m lying dead somewhere or not.” She said with a desperate sort of laugh, bracing herself on the back of the couch. She watched as everyone gathered around in front of her, watching intently. “I’ll be ready one day to…explain everything that happened with the crucible, but for now…”

“You don’t owe us anything, Shepard.” Miranda said from beside the fireplace. A small smile graced her face and she nodded once. The words gave Shepard solace and she straightened up, watching the piano light up as Glyph continued the song. Atop the piano sat one of Anderson’s data pads, and she started to gather what it was she wanted to say to these people.

 “Anderson said something once…’If you’re lucky, really lucky, you find yourself on a good ship in front of a good crew. A crew you can trust with your life.’ There’s uh, this saying from a long time ago on Earth. About family not ending with blood…and I never really understood it fully until the mission on Eden Prime years ago, until this…insane series of events brought us all together.”

She looked up to see a few of them laugh, and both Krogans sport grins. The words came easier after that, even as she was all-too aware of the gaps the crew subconsciously left between each other, as if acknowledging that they were a few short of a full house.

“Being in the military instills certain values in you, but you learn a lot of tough lessons. You lose people. And sometimes it feels like maybe it’s easier to live without any family, without any ties, without… anything you could lose. But serving with all of you has made me understand otherwise. Family, friends, they give you meaning. They give you something to fight for. By…By all accounts I should have died. Twice now. But I can promise you this much: if it meant keeping all of you, all the galaxy safe, I’d do it a hundred times over.  You remind me why there are certain things worth dying for. And that kind of motivation can’t exist without a force behind it. What I’m trying…and possibly failing to say is that without each and every one of you, not a moment of this would have been possible. So thank you.”

“I think now’s a good a time as any to crack open the bar.” Garrus offered. It was met with a resounding agreement and he placed his hand on the small of her back before going to pour the drinks with Traynor, Vega, and Jack. At that everyone started to get more comfortable, settling into the couches and chairs as drinks were brought around. Some opted for beer, some for the hard stuff, and others for the pretty ones that required a mandatory colourful umbrella. When everyone had at least partially liquored up, the conversation began to revolve around Anderson. And just like that it turned into an impromptu memorial service, with people reminiscing about the Admiral.

“I remember back on that first mission to Eden Prime when Anderson was in command of the Normandy.” Kaidan began, smiling distantly as he sat back on the couch. “He ran a tight ship, but being under his command was different than others. He was always upfront with us and never gave an order he wouldn’t carry out himself. He…He brought out the best in all of us. He did what was right, not what was easy—hell, he punched Udina in the face so we could steal the Normandy and go through the Mu relay to catch up with Saren. If that isn’t damned good leadership, I don’t know what is.”

That made them laugh. It was good, to remember in a way that didn’t sting. But the laughter faded and she missed some of what was said as her own last memories of Anderson ate her up inside. The feeling of her finger on the trigger, the way their bodies slumped beside one another as they looked out on the great void. But more than anything: the fact that they both should have died or they both should have made it. This in-between stuff was bullshit. It wasn’t until Garrus placed a hand on her knee that she came back, covering his hand with hers and listening fully once more.

“I can usually get a pretty good read on people from a first impression, and Anderson was one tough son-of-a-bitch. I could tell, right away, that he’d seen hell.” James scratched the back of his neck and downed half his drink. “It’s hard to imagine what carrying something like that around with you is until you get hit with the same shit, but he really showed us grunts how to deal with things that don’t come in the Alliance Military Handbook. He liked to challenge his soldiers, push them to redefine their limits. More than anything though, he pushed us to find our true potential. Where others saw insubordination and anger problems, he would see someone with a passion and a reason to learn how to fight well. They don’t really make them like Anderson much anymore.”

“Commander?” Joker began, looking to her apprehensively. “Do you want to…”

Shepard understood he meant for her to say something. She racked her brain for something to say that wouldn’t make her look any more fragile than she no doubt already seemed to these people. But at the same time, she figured that without a big mission and crew morale to worry about, maybe a bit of vulnerability wasn’t such a bad thing. There was strength in camaraderie, in empathy.

“Where I grew up, violence was pretty much the norm. Every day felt like a small battle in the perpetual war of your life. Not that the wars stopped coming once I enlisted, but they at least counted for something. Anderson…Admiral David Anderson was the closest thing I ever had to a father. Every moment spent in his presence was a privilege, and the galaxy is lesser for his loss. Whatever kind of soldier I am today, I would be nothing without him.”

At this she paused, debating whether or not to go further. But the memories were so raw and the wounds so fresh for her that she felt she’d never pull back together if she didn’t push on.

“In our last moments, we were up there together. We sat down, two bloodied and beaten shells of soldiers and looked out at the war raging on below us. I know without a doubt that we could not have succeeded in this war if Anderson had not believed in us. If he hadn’t forced me off planet the day the Reapers came and organized the defense of Earth while I flew around playing politician. Because that was the kind of leader he was. I can only hope one day to be as brave and true as he was; and I can only pray that wherever he is now, he’s finally taking a damn break. To Anderson.”

Her hand found the dog tags again and everyone raised their drinks, the Alliance crew offering salutes as well. A collective ‘ _to Anderson_!’ chimed out from the lot of them and offered a semi-official ending to the memorial. She had experienced loss many times, even with close friends, but Anderson was different. She knew it would take a very, very long time. _And he’ll be giving me shit about it from the afterlife the whole damn way_.

“Would you like me to provide some quiet music as a backdrop to your reunions, Commander?” Glyph inquired, floating nearby. She nodded, and he immediately filled the apartment with a song she was certain she’d heard a few times before.

With a marked end to the collective speeches, Shepard got up and headed to the kitchen to get herself something. Everyone took this as their cue to resume whatever conversations they’d had before she arrived, sectioning off into their respective groups. Garrus followed her, watching as she flipped through the red cabinets in search of her favourite mug. She still felt horrifically groggy, and caffeine would hopefully help her wake up more.

“Shepard,” Tali called out as she approached. Garrus produced the mug in question and began to work the coffee machine himself, shooing her off to the Quarian. “I wanted to show you something.”

“What is it?” She asked as Tali brought up her omni-tool. It took a minute for Shepard to take in all of the pictures and diagrams in front of her, but she recognized a picture from Rannoch. The place Tali had claimed when they went to defeat the Geth fighter squadron base. The view was seen through the roughed-in foundation of a home. _Tali’s_ home.

“It will still take some time—we are more focused on preparing the southern continents for organic settlements and rerouting power sources—but it’s a start.” Tali shrugged, looking at Shepard as the Commander pulled up the blueprints for a better look. “It will be strange, having so much room to call my own. And quiet, not to mention quiet.”

“Something tells me your time in the Normandy wouldn’t prepare you for the silence of an actual home world.” Shepard teased. “You might have to bring an engine upstairs to give you some background noise.”

“Maybe.” She laughed, nodding. After a moment she pulled up a separate file for Shepard to see—a short clip of what life would now be like on Rannoch. It started out with the views of the rock formations and rivers, of the desert grass and wildflowers that defined the planet’s beauty. She watched as Geth worked with Quarians to create housing and other infrastructure, sharing resources that the other needed. “Some have even started to spend hours at a time without our masks on. With the upgrades the Geth gave to our environmental suits, I can spend every sunrise breathing in the fresh air, Shepard.”

“I can’t imagine what that must be like, Tali.” Shepard smiled, watching one of her oldest friends, and turned her attention back to the video at the sound of a voice. It was a Geth Prime unit with about four or five Quarian children hanging off its legs, arms, and shoulders.

“ _Tiny creators_!” It called out in a deep voice flushed with worry. “ _Please be careful_!”

“Well I’m glad to see you’ve been able to keep the peace.” Shepard remarked, biting back the knowledge of what she’d done to the Geth. One day she would explain everything to these people, to the galaxy, but not yet. “Now that you’re working on resettling Rannoch, what’s going to become of the Migrant Fleet?”

“We’ll still keep the fleet, although I think our numbers will reduce. Most of the live ships are in the process of being decommissioned, with an attempt to reintroduce the crops into the natural ecosystem of Rannoch. The Admiralty board hasn’t really had experience making the kinds of decisions that are needed now, but I think we will be oka—”

“Tali, when you get home we still have to—oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were—Commander, it’s good to see you again.”

“Captain Kar’Danna.” Shepard nodded, knowing the way Tali shifted her weight from foot to foot meant she was nervous. “How are things on the Rayya?”

“Better than ever. We’ve actually got Veetor on board, he’s really good at coordinating with the Geth. They don’t feel like as big of an audience as the Quarian do. But I won’t keep you two, sorry for the interruption.”

“I’ll see you at home, Danna.” Tali said, emboldened. “Keelah se’lai.”

“Did I miss the wedding?” Shepard teased, evoking an elbow to the gut from Tali. “I think it’s cute. Forbidden love between the captain and the admiral. Who knows, maybe you’ll be the star of the next big Quarian love story.”

“I’m going to go have a drink and pretend I never heard that.” Tali said, closing off her omni-tool. She took one step away but turned back. “It’s good to have you back, Shepard.”

With that she walked off and Garrus took the opportunity to hand her the coffee, brewed exactly the way she liked it. She took his hand and drank about half of it, never expecting to need courage to face her friends. Garrus had witnessed the messy way she woke up, but to the others she must have seemed relatively fine. They’d had weeks upon weeks to wind down from the horrors of the war, to find some semblance of roots once more in places and people. For her, every time her eyes closed some horrors awaited her. It was a feeling she didn’t wish upon any of them, and so she kept it to herself.

“You doing alright, Shepard?” Garrus asked her, eyes glued to her every move. She nodded once and looked up at him. “You’re looking a little rattled still. If you want, I can ask them to come back later.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s good to see everyone.” She said quickly, looking out at her makeshift family and then back at him. “Just…Stay with me.”

“Always.” He said without missing a beat. The word gave her strength and she composed herself again, walking out to spend time with everyone else. She found Jeff and EDI sitting standing with Jacob and Miranda near the piano. They greeted her and she mingled for a bit before Jacob took a few steps closer.

“Shepard, I meant to show you.” He pulled up a picture of a baby girl on his omni-tool for her to see. The sight of it tugged at something inside of Shepard’s chest, as if she had forgotten things as miraculous as child-birth still had a place in the rubble of the galaxy. It gave her hope. “Her name is Fiona.”

“Have to say I’m glad you talked Brynn out of the name-sake.” Shepard joked, the two of them sharing a laugh. “But she’s beautiful, Jacob. I’m happy for the both of you. How is Brynn?”

“She’s good, they’re both good. Healthy. Brynn was worried that with all the destruction there might be negative effects on the baby, with all the stuff floating around in the air. But it was…it was the greatest moment of my life, Shepard. It never would have happened if it wasn’t for you.”

“I don’t see a ring yet.” She challenged, raising an eyebrow. He laughed and nodded, looking at the floor for a moment.

“Yeah, well…I was kind of waiting for you to come back.” He admitted. The faith was admirable. “Still needing your Spectre clearance to get us into the council chambers.”

“I’ll make it happen.” She vowed, placing a hand on his shoulder. She looked over at Miranda and nodded for her to follow. The ex-Cerberus Officer met the Commander by the grand windows overlooking the strip. For a while the two of them were silent. “I wanted to thank you, Miranda.”

“Thank me? For what Shepard?”

“Doctor Chakwas told me you forwarded a lot of detailed information about the cybernetics Cerberus put in me. I probably wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t.”

“We’re a rare breed, Shepard.” She said with a shrug. A sly smile wormed onto her face. “I couldn’t let the only other trouble-shooting space diva die, now could I?”

This managed to bring a genuine laugh from the Commander, and the sensation made her feel strange. But she welcomed it, choosing to try and get better. The coffee helped.

“How is Oriana doing?” Shepard asked, leaning against the glass. Miranda smiled and looked down at the vista below them. “We didn’t get much time to talk about her after Sanctuary.”

“She’s…she’s the best part of me. It got hard for her and her family during the war, especially with everything my father did, but she’s surprisingly well-adjusted. And more like me than is good for her. I…I visit her now and again. When it’s safe. But other than that we have other means of keeping in touch. I can’t thank you enough for helping me rescue her, Shepard. With everything after Niket…you might be the last person in this galaxy I can rely on.”

“I’m just glad I could help.” She finished the rest of her coffee and set the empty mug on the piano. “And what about all the people who were after you during the war?”

“I still keep tabs on those stupid enough to hold a grudge and lucky enough to have survived the Reapers. Most of them died, but if the rest of them manage to catch up with me they will too.” She shrugged, pushing a lock of hair over her shoulder. Miranda looked away from the Commander for a moment before continuing. “In the aftermath, Doctor T’soni approached me about a…position. She said you had high praise for me and given the loss of life the Shadow Broker could use a top operative with my talents.”

“You’d make a hell of an agent.” Shepard said, impressed at the notion. Looking at her, it made sense. Miranda could lead as well as she could follow, and agents of the Shadow Broker needed to be able to do both. Her critical thinking and biotic power would make her a valuable asset.

“Not exactly where I pictured myself, but then again I don’t think Liara did either. Cerberus is all but destroyed, the Illusive Man MIA—”

“Well, not exactly.” Shepard interrupted. Miranda straightened up and watched her intently. “There was a final confrontation. He…He wanted to control the Reapers. In the end…well, he’s dead. That’s what matters.”

Miranda watched her silently for a few long seconds, and then seemed to relax. As if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She leaned back against the windows and looked away.

“One less name on my watch list, then.” She smirked.

“Hey Lola!” James appeared in the space that separated the two rooms, beckoning her over. “You gotta try this, Traynor just made a drink named after you and it is _amazing_!”

With that she and Miranda exchanged a silent farewell and she followed the Lieutenant over to the bar. Garrus was not far behind her as they greeted the group crowded around the drinks. Vega, Kaidan, Jack, Traynor, and Cortez watched her with anticipation as she eyed the glasses full of mixed alcohol. They were black, blue, and white, but smelled like citrus.

“Commander,” Traynor began with an apprehensive smile. “I present the Commander Shepard. Strong flavour, punching aftertaste, and just a touch of sweetness. I’m not exactly sure it meets galactic standards for alcohol percentage, but I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Damn that shit is _good_ , Traynor!” James exclaimed, not waiting for the invitation to grab another glass of it. Shepard hesitated a moment before grabbing a glass herself, holding it up in a salute to Traynor before downing it entirely. The flavour very much felt like a punch to the mouth, followed by a smooth cooling sensation down the throat. The aftertaste was impossible to ignore and left you wanting more.

“That is pretty damn good, Traynor.” She said with pride, setting the glass back down on the bar. Garrus didn’t hesitate to try it himself, citing the different kinds of alcohol used to make it before looking to Traynor for proof of his guess. Of course, he was right. “The Alliance keep you in the labs for your science skills or your mixing abilities?”

“Actually, I didn’t last very long back in the labs.” Traynor admitted with a furrowed brow. “I thought I’d be happy to be back somewhere familiar, you know? But I guess…serving on the Normandy isn’t an experience that leaves you very easily. Before I knew it I was begging Admiral Hackett to get me assigned to an active ship. And…well, sorry I’m rambling again. Am I rambling? I’m always worried that I’m rambling. Sorry. What I really want to say is that—well, it was an honour. And I’m thrilled you’re back. The galaxy does feel a bit safer knowing you’re with us, ma’am.”

They exchanged smiles, but soon she was swept back into mixing drinks for everyone. The Commander Shepard seemed to be a huge hit, especially with Jack. She was knocking them back like she was getting paid for it. Vega grunted after finishing his fourth glass, setting it down hard on the bar. Shepard went over and took a seat beside the marine, pointing out the N7 emblem on his shirt.

“How’re you liking your new status?”

“It’s…weird. Not used to people looking at me the way they do now. When things weren’t as critical I finally went back to Rio and went through proper training at the ICT.” The look he sported was a familiar one; the N-level courses undertaken by potentials in the Interplanetary Combatives Academy amounted to an experience you never quite learned how to shake.

“I’m surprised they made you follow through with the formal training.” Shepard admitted, watching as he took another full glass and downed it. He looked over at her and shrugged.

“They didn’t, I chose to. I wanted to do it right. Figured it was the sort of thing that would make my uncle proud.” He paused for a moment and indulged in the smallest of smiles. “Make you proud.”

“I am proud of you, James. Always have been. People like you are what make the Alliance what it is.” She said with ease. He laughed off the compliments as he always did, and returned his attention to the surface of the bar. “Did you manage to meet up with anyone you knew after the war?”

“Yeah, ended up tracking down my uncle. He was in bad shape for a while, but he pulled through. Tough son-of-a-bitch. I figured if he could make it, then you would too. Also found a few old squadmates when I was helping out on Earth. It felt good, getting people out. Saving them. Not always an option with what we do, you know? We don’t always have that feeling to hold onto. Anchor us, or whatever.”

Shepard thought back to when she’d first met the lieutenant. He had likely been present during her toned-down trial after the suicide mission, after the incident with the relay and the Batarian colony. But when she was relieved of duty, she was also barred from communicating with anyone. Just like that, her entire circle was cut off. She may not have been locked up, but the cut-off from her crew made for even harsher bars. And then the smart-ass lieutenant showed up saying he was there if she needed things—like news updates or requisition orders. Whatever she was allowed, at least. But he’d changed into something much more important than an errand boy.

“I know you’ll hold this against me for the rest of my life, but you know you were a sort of…anchor for me back on Earth when I was grounded.” Shepard admitted, rolling her eyes at the smug grin on his face.

“Anchor, huh?” He pushed, laughing as she threatened to walk away entirely. “I’m just playing, Lola.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She chided, settling in again. Her eyes found Garrus across the room and watched him exchange jabs with Jack. “It was rough, being barred off from everyone I knew, everyone I cared about. But you helped me cope.”

“You mean I helped you cope being separated from Scars for so long. You know, I could have helped you cope in a _very_ different way.” He teased. She raised an eyebrow at him and challenged the very notion of it, to which he seceded. His hands went up in a sign of surrender. “I know, I know. But seriously, Lola…Never thought I’d let myself get close to people after I lost my squad. You helped me get over that, and you led me to these loco pendehos. It’s gonna be a hell of a show getting the galaxy back on its feet, but you can count on me for anything. I’ll always be ready for you.”

“I’m sure the strip clubs are already up and running by now, so at least you’ve got the part of the galaxy you actually _enjoy_ up and running.” She teased, raising her eyebrows at him. He didn’t bother denying it, instead raised a glass to the thought. Amongst their shared smile she caught sight of Kaidan standing on his own near the corner of the room, looking out at the strip. Before she left James held out his hand and she indulged him in their handshake. He nodded once and released her, turning back to the others as she went over to Kaidan.

“Shepard, hey.” He was visibly pulled out of his thoughts when she approached him but he relaxed almost as quickly. “It’s great having everyone together like this. We should do it more often, now that you’re out.”

“I might just make good on that, Major-Spectre Alenko.” Shepard said with a smile, watching as he emptied the last of his beer and moved it absently between his hands. “How are you liking the new liberties of the title?”

“It’s…a big honour. Still have some pretty big shoes to fill, coming in after Commander Shepard herself, but I think I’m doing alright.” He grinned, nodding to himself. “I may have used my Spectre authority on a couple of things that were technically a stretch, but they helped, you know? I think that’s one of the good things about it. No questions asked. In fact, it let me help out a lot of my old biotic students.”

“You’ve been keeping busy, I bet. Between Spectre business and the Alliance you can’t have much time to yourself.”

“It’s sort of comfortable that way, though. I’ve been helping out a lot on Earth, using my biotics where I can. I actually took the time to take my mom off-world finally.”

“Yeah? Where did you go?”

“The whole wide galaxy to choose from, and my mom picks Terra Nova.” He laughed, shaking his head. A sad smile overtook his features. “I think it was more about the journey than the destination for her. Just being in space was nearly enough adventure for her. But we went as soon as it was safe to. She couldn’t believe how big the equatorial desert was, but she seemed to enjoy herself. It…It helped take her mind off dad.”

At this Shepard straightened, remembering that Kaidan’s father had been MIA the last time they breached the topic. He took a deep breath in and let it out. When Shepard placed a hand on his shoulder he managed a weak smile.

“He, uh, he made it through the war if you can believe it. My old man fought his way through husks and cannibals and brutes. But the end run, when we made our final assault the heat got turned up everywhere. He made it out but brought his injuries with him. We, uh, had about a good month with him before he moved on.”

“I’m sorry Kaidan. It…It’s the hardest thing there is.”

He knew it wasn’t a hollow statement. They were both dealing with the loss of a father. The whole _galaxy_ was dealing with some kind of loss. Shepard hoped it would bring them all together.

“Thanks.” He said sincerely. “With everything that went wrong, with everyone we lost…I’m just relieved you made it back to us, Shepard.”

“Commander, help me out here.” Cortez called from across the room. Jack was standing in front of him with crossed arms. Shepard left Kaidan only after making him promise to go relax with everyone and went to fix the situation. “You’ve seen how I can handle something as hard to maneuver as the Kodiak. Now that I’m back flying the trident, I just said that I can finally out-fly any attack.”

“And I’m trying to let this guy know if a biotic is pissed off enough, you can’t dodge a warp field.” Jack shrugged, looking to Shepard for support. “I don’t give a shit if the shuttle has barriers, I’m telling you that a biotic has enough power under her belt to do as much damage as she needs. There’s a _reason_ we can make up an entire artillery unit.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever seen me fly, Jack.” Cortez challenged, crossing his arms as well. “I’ve controlled crash landings and navigated Harvester-filled skies. There’s a reason the Commander survived all the drops into LZs that would be too hot for other pilots.”

“You don’t get that I could land a precision mass effect field that could rip out the thrusters completely. It doesn’t matter how good you are if your ship is broken.”

“Alright you two,” Shepard interjected, holding up her hands in an attempt to make peace. The both of them backed off almost immediately. “I think we can agree this would be a situation of unstoppable force and immovable object. Let’s just say no one would want to be at the receiving end of either of your skills, okay?”

“Well said, ma’am.” Cortez smiled and she turned to face Jack. Her hair had gotten a little longer but the style remained the same. It was strange to take comfort in something as simple as someone’s maintained sense of style. Maybe Shepard just liked that although Jack had arguably changed for the better in some ways, she was still the all-powerful-bitch she was when they first met.

“What?” She hissed, narrowing her eyes at Shepard. “Don’t smile at me like that, Shepard. You’re creeping me out.”

“I’m happy to see you too, Jack.” Shepard said sarcastically. With a roll of her eyes, Jack punched Shepard in the arm and allowed herself a quarter of a smile.

“Enough of your girl guides bullshit Shep. I wouldn’t be here at your little high school reunion if I wasn’t glad you didn’t die on me. I would have beat the shit out of you if you did.”

“That the same kind of love you show your students?” Shepard challenged. Jack sighed and shook her head, but made herself comfortable against the wall beside the fireplace. Shepard learned how to read the ex-prisoner’s body language back before the suicide mission, and knew this was the time to stop prying. She would talk when she was ready.

“Sanders and I have been taking them around to help where they can. Mostly Human colony planets. When they all made it out alive after the war I took them to a strip club—Sanders may have missed her invite. They’re little shits, but they’re mine. Even Eezo likes them, and he’s still half-wild. The kids keep asking me for life advice and shit like I’m some sort of reliable parental figure. It’s _your_ fault they see me so domesticated, Shepard. I miss being the Psychotic Biotic. Hell, I guess I still am. But I guess…Shit, I don’t know. I don’t really need the anger as a crutch anymore.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Shepard said, leaning against the wall beside Jack. She tilted her head back and let it hit the brick, closing her eyes.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s good or bad, because that’s what it is.” She said quietly, almost peacefully. And then she straightened up and looked Shepard in the eye. “And by the way, thanks for running off and blowing the fuck out of Cerberus. _Without_ me. Whatever, at least I got to watch Teltin Facility and Purgatory go up in flames.”

“It doesn’t count as closure unless explosives are involved with you, do they Jack?”

“What?” She shrugged, pushing off of the wall and going to get another drink. “Nothing says it’s over like a big fucking bomb.”

From where she was standing Shepard could see Liara in the small den. She wondered when the Asari had broken off from the rest of the group, but she figured it had something to do with the call she was on. Shepard was sure she saw the face of a Drell on the omni-tool’s screen. With a backwards glance at Garrus, she went to have a moment with her friend.

“The shipments were received and everything is in order. Also, Agent Lawson found some interesting data on the Volus government and what remains of the Batarian Hegemony. I’ve forwarded the files to your terminal back at headquarters. Agents Tazzik and Barla Von successfully acquired the information as requested, and are awaiting further instructions.”

“Good, then we are covered on all fronts except for the issue with the Salarian merchant. We can deal with him when C-Sec isn’t so heavily patrolling the markets. Thank you, Feron.”

“I’ll be back within the next six days, until then communication might be tricky. I love you, Liara.”

At the sound of Shepard’s approach the Asari quickly ended the call, straightening her clothes and folding her hands in front of her. A smile spread across her face, a gesture that the Commander took part in.

“You shouldn’t leave a guy hanging like that, Liara.” Shepard teased as they took a seat at the bar. “So much for Feron only being a good friend.”

“Shepard,” She chided gently before looking over at the Turian. “You know very well how easily close friendship can bloom into…something more. I only did what felt…natural.”

“I’m happy for you. Really. It’s about time you found yourself some peace in this galaxy.”

“Now that you’ve saved it.” She replied, raising an eyebrow. “Again.”

Liara took Shepard’s hands in hers and held them there for a while before bringing up the fate of Thessia. Although the damage had been catastrophic—and greater than the race had ever faced—they were finally starting to rebuild. They preserved what they could and were in the midst of restoring secondary institutions, having successfully solidified fundamental functions across all Asari colonies. What help they had to give, was given.

“I went back to Armali for a time, when I had finally settled and took stock of what resources I had left as the Broker. It was horrible, seeing all the decimation. So disturbing. But despite the destruction, the little park I grew up beside was still there. Can you believe it, Shepard? Already, little girls were playing again and yelling and digging up the ground just as I had. For me, it was a symbol of…endurance. Of hope, and of life.”

Shepard wondered aloud what had become of all the other planets she’d been to over the course of her fight against the Reapers. She questioned the fate of Noveria, of Virmire where the sights reminded Garrus of Palaven, of Ilium where so many encounters with her crew centred around, and of Ilos where she had only begun to understand her journey.

“As you might guess, the widespread financial backing of Ilium and Noveria meant they bounced back rather quickly. The research facilities and trading floors were up long before most planets had basic medical care and food supplies back in order. I confess I still would love the opportunity to return to Ilos…to study what was left by the Protheans. Part of me wondered what it would be like to have Javik with me if I went, but I doubt it would be bearable for him. Nor him bearable for me.”

“Well if you do ever make the time in your busy schedule, maybe you and I could go back.” Shepard avoided the topic of Javik entirely, because in their last moments together he had resigned himself to death after the completion of the mission. The fact that he was standing there to greet her along with everyone else made her more confused than hopeful, but she wouldn’t bring it up with anyone but him.

“You _are_ the one with the Prothean cipher.” She reasoned. The Commander got up to leave and Liara almost let her, but at the last moment she called her back. “Shepard…about what we talked about on the Citadel…About having a friend to share things with over the years…”

“We’ll keep in touch, Liara.” She promised with a smile. “Even the Shadow Broker needs to come up for air now and then.”

The bellowing laughter of a Krogan pulled her away and she looked towards the balcony where the two were beginning to head butt again. Garrus was standing by the staircase, drink in hand, looking wholly unimpressed by the spectacle. She motioned for him to follow as she went to greet the Krogans.

“Unless you feel like coughing up the credits to replace my furniture, _please_ stop.” Shepard said calmly. The words only made Grunt laugh a drawn out _heh-heh-heh_ but Wrex obliged her request and the two backed off.

“You aren’t going soft on me, are you Shepard?” Wrex demanded with a furrowed brow. “It’s one thing to call a Human my sister, but I can’t have some weak-kneed pyjak being called the hero of my race.”

“I shot a Reaper in the face, Wrex.” She said defensively, crossing her arms and leaning back against the railing. To this, he only shrugged.

“You had help.”

She shook her head but couldn’t supress the smile. Seeing Wrex standing there with that sheepish grin on his face—the look he always made when he _knew_ he was being a smartass—made Shepard feel suddenly overwhelmed with relief. No part of her would be the same if this aggressive, unapologetic, brute of a friend had been left behind at Virmire. She couldn’t help but wonder what her teenage self would have thought, struggling in the slums of an overpopulated city on the homeworld, if she found out one of her closest friends would be a Krogan.

“What?” He said after she stared too long. “Do I have varren in my teeth?”

“How’s Tuchanka dealing with the aftermath?” She pretended he hadn’t said anything—he didn’t need her to say again that she actually cared about him. The notion of talking about Tuchanka seemed to please him; so much so that he leaned against the railing overlooking the apartment. Shepard thought she heard the metal creak a bit under his weight, but she didn’t say anything. Only smiled.

“Well, it took an apocalypse and a bunch of off-worlders to finally pull the Krogan back to their glory days, but I guess the end result is what matters. I had a little _talk_ with the council a couple months ago, and reminded the Turian that if it wasn’t for the blood of my people he wouldn’t have a home to rebuild. Heh, _that_ made some ripples in the council chambers. They granted us a couple planets to expand to, but I think it was only because they’re worried about another Rebellion. I’ll get a few more for us when things settle down. Bakara is already pregnant again. And I swear, if I have to hear one more Krogan whelp singing battle songs about you Shepard, I might just have to kill someone.”

“Hey, let’s remember that I was _not_ in favour of being an icon.” She held her hands up in defense. “I can barely handle facing humankind, let alone any other species.”

“Saved the galaxy, cured the genophage, brokered peace with the Geth…Hell, Shepard, summoning Kalross would’ve been enough to be remembered. You didn’t have to do _everything_.”

At that, she rolled her eyes. He let out a deep, bellowing laugh and punched her shoulder. It made her flinch a little, which in turn brought Garrus over immediately. He chastised Wrex for the physicality and tried to dissuade him from doing it again.

“What, she can’t take a few punches anymore?” He asked incredulously. “You Humans sure are strange. How much longer till you evolve a redundant nervous system?”

“I’ll get right on that, Wrex.” She nodded, slapping her hand on his shoulder. “So long as you promise not to feed any rebels in your new regime to a Thresher Maw.”

He was silent for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. Somehow, it was a comforting gesture. She needed to have some chaotic good in the world. Instead of just plain chaos, which was what she still felt like all over. Grunt was standing off on his own, looking from the balcony down out the windows to the strip below. He lit up at the sight of her, crossing to meet her half way.

“Shepard! My battlemaster—my _friend_.” He gripped her shoulder for a moment but looked at her with the same eagerness when he released her.

“Good to see you, Grunt.” Shepard studied the armor he wore. It was still the same silver that he had when they first met in O’Keer’s labs, but now it had a number of sigils and what she assumed were military classifications on it. “Looks like you’ve gotten a few promotions.”

“I have to, I am the strongest of my kind.” He said, as if the fact couldn’t be more obvious. “After the situation with the Rachni, I had to find new recruits for Aralakh Company. I _wanted_ to go after the Rachni Queen—I wanted the chance to fight the true Old Enemy—but you say she’s an ‘ally’ so…It took time to train the recruits, even our best were weak. But our enemies were strong and from that they found strength. But you…you gave me everything, Shepard. Clan, kin, and enemies to fight.”

The words struck something deep inside of her. When Grunt had first come out of that tank, those words were laden with blood rage, with an apathetic view of the world and his compatriots—only a desire to kill that which was weaker. And while he still very much held that desire to kill—it was what made him Grunt—he was more…grounded. Shepard herself had seen the relics of the Ancient Krogans for herself. She knew that there was greatness to be found amongst the ancestors of the race; greatness that Urdnot Bakara would no doubt resurrect. But Shepard felt that the words which had once been meaningless imprints in a tank for Grunt, words like home, clan, and glory, now had significance. He had a reason to fight, a reason to live, and a reason to stick around. The world wouldn’t feel the same without her tank-bred berserker out there getting into trouble. _Though hopefully no more bills from C-Sec_.

They talked a little more but she eventually excused herself, taking refuge in the bedroom that still didn’t really feel like hers. No matter how hard she tried, she still hadn’t been able to go around the apartment and gather up all of Anderson’s things that were still marking the place. It was stupid, really, but they gave her comfort. Even as she sunk down into the mattress and put her head in her hands, she could see scuff marks on the wood floors of where he must have shifted the furniture. And across the way in the closet, there was a blackened spot on the wall adjacent to the workbench where he must’ve accidentally fired a weapon. Shepard heaved out a deep breath and tried to reconcile with the reality around her. No matter how hard she tried, she still felt only half-way present.

“How’s it going?” Garrus was never far, which was exactly what she needed. He hovered at the doorway as if trying to judge whether or not he should give her some space. “I know this must be a lot all at once.”

She moved over a little, giving him the only invitation he needed to join her. His hand went to the small of her back and she curled into the gesture, forcing herself to focus on the physical now, not on the abstract. He didn’t burden her with comforting words, only sat by her side for as long as she needed. After a good ten minutes of quiet—nothing but the distant laughter and voices of the world, _her_ world, going on around her—she finally brought herself to speak.

“I never even asked—how’s Solana? And your father?”

“They’re fine, Shepard.” He dismissed quickly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Actually, Solana ended up marrying a Turian she was in training camp with. Mind you now he’s pretty high up in the Hierarchy. Hell, if things go bad I might be taking orders from her in not too long.” His goal seemed to be to make her laugh, and it worked. “She wants to meet you, you know. Dad too.”

“Even though I’m a Spectre with no accountability for my actions?” She teased, remembering all-too well the words he’d spoken to her back in the cargo bay of the Normandy SR-1. “We could have them here for dinner or something sometime.”

“Shepard, are we going domestic?” He joked, not flinching as she leaned in to kiss him. It was only when they parted that she realized the gravity of her proposition.

They _could_ do something as incredibly domestic as a meet-the-family dinner. The notion made her freeze. For _once_ , there was no Reaper threat, no Alliance detention centre, no pressing military mission. Nothing. Samara’s words echoed in her head over and over: _I am a ruined vessel of sorrow and regret, but I am free_. With one last squeeze of his hand she told him she’d be ready to join the party again in a little while. He took the cue and got to his feet, glancing back at her just once before leaving her in silence.

Shepard used her omni-tool to bring up the stored messages she had from Thane, hesitating for a long time before finally deciding to watch his last transmission. It hurt, almost as much as Anderson, but she knew that he was at peace. He had made it across the ocean to where Irikah would find him, would save him all over again. She said one last goodbye before going into the bathroom and rinsing her face with cold water. The sting of the temperature didn’t deter her from doing it twice more before drying off. In walking back towards the exit, there was a quiet zapping noise and Kasumi was holding up one of her bras against her body with an inquisitive look.

“Leopard print? Interesting. I thought Garrus would be more into lace for some reason. Hmm.”

“Kasumi, _not_ okay.” Shepard chided, barely able to contain the smile. “How come you aren’t downstairs ogling Jacob again?”

“I was curious.” She shrugged, not bothering to put the bra back in its place before strolling out of the closet. “And maybe I was waiting for you to finally be alone. There’s so many people out there, it’s hard to get a word in.”

“It’s busy…But it’s nice having everyone together.” Shepard mused, smiling to herself. Two ships worth of crew in one place, it was a miracle they didn’t cause more chaos. “How’s the thievery business treating you?”

Kasumi smirked, walking around to the different shelves in the room and admiring the collections of books and trinkets—none of which belonged to Shepard. She stopped at the medals all bearing Andersons name before shrugging.

“There’s always something to steal, but the selection in times of galactic-wide poverty is pretty slim. I blame _you_ for instilling this overwhelming sense of morality in me. But I guess I do have to thank you again for helping me get Keiji’s Greybox. I found some more hidden files of places—if they aren’t destroyed. The things I get will help me put some wealth back into the galaxy. You know, so people start buying things _actually_ worth taking again.”

“Kasumi.”

“What? It’s not like I’m planning to take the Normandy.” With one last smile she cloaked again and disappeared entirely. Her voice sounded out from somewhere to the left, announcing she was going to go shamelessly flirt with Jacob until she got bored. Shepard shook her head and went to leave, but something caught her eye.

On one of the shelves there was a framed item that she didn’t remember putting there, and it _definitely_ hadn’t been there before. It took a moment for Shepard to recognize the item as a seashell. It wasn’t any specimen from Earth, but it resembled a conch-shape. It was decorated with brilliant oranges, pinks, and purples, like a sunset being reflected on the ocean. In the back of her mind, a song began to ring out in a nearly off-tune voice. _I’ve studied species Turian, Asari, and Batarian…I am the very model of a scientist Salarian…_

She bit back the tears that brimmed in her eyes. She pulled herself together and took a deep breath and vowed to push on. For the dead. For the living.

Shepard found a familiar figure in the quietest spot of the apartment. Upon her approach, Samara’s eyes eased open and a warm smile spread across her face. Uncrossing her legs, she got to her feet and gently pulled Shepard into an embrace.

“Shepard.” She said in a wispy voice. “It must be an immense effort to be walking amongst us with so many scars.”

“They shouldn’t take that much longer to heal.” She replied quickly, brushing it off. It made the Asari give a sad smile.

“I’m sure, but I doubt the ones within you will. I want you to know, if you should ever seek counsel, you may still call on me. At any time. It is the least I can offer you for saving my daughter.”

“How is Falere?” Shepard inquired, trying so desperately to drown herself in the lives of others. Samara motioned for them to move to the couches where they sat down beside one another.

“She is well. It was…difficult for me to leave her in the ruins of the Monastery on Lessus. But she is strong-willed, and she follows her own code. Though formal leadership is minimal, Ardat-Yakshi who survived the Reapers are willingly migrating to the monastery. I believe the sight of the Banshees spoke to some of them.”

The thought of the Banshees still scratched a fear inside Shepard’s core. The husks were hard enough to deal with—centuries of evolving zombie stories through Earth’s history had somewhat prepped her for that. But seeing first-hand the perversion of other species…It was difficult. It was revolting. But Samara represented the future of her people, the reality, the fact that there were still people who existed that strived to protect others.

“What few of us there were of the Justicar order, fewer still survived the battle. I had believed it was safe to say the order was all but lost…But the war brought many of the Asari back to their roots and our deepest philosophical traditions. Those who came seeking knowledge, a desire to restore balance and preserve the life that has so miraculously endured, they are…promising.”

“Do you mean that more Asari are wanting to become Justicars?” Shepard asked, shifting to face her better.

“Whether or not these inquiring minds will come to fruition and fully accept the lifestyle of a Justicar is a matter even I cannot predict. Though if you have taught me anything, Shepard, it is to…hope.”

They spoke for a while longer about the Asari but even more about Earth. It was strange to get so many updates from a non-human, but she appreciated it all the same. After her visit was finished on the Citadel, Samara had promised to visit Falere. It was the first time she’d be able to since the war, and she was considering bringing a gift.

“Being with you Shepard, it reminded me the importance of being connected with others. I have robbed Falere of much of that for centuries. It is time I fix that.”

“I wish you the best, Samara.”

“And I you, Shepard.”

Even as she descended the stairs, a busy sound echoed out from the kitchen. Shepard raised an eyebrow at what sounded like dishes and containers being shuffled around, but she couldn’t get a good look until she was finally downstairs. Through the opening she could see Zaeed’s familiar armor and tattooed arm. He was rifling through her fridge (which she assumed Garrus had kept stocked in the event of her return from the dead) and pulling out things that he seemed to find appetizing. She heard him let out low, drawn out ‘ _yesssss_ ’ as he pulled out something covered from the back of the fridge. Shepard leaned against the island and watched him set the coveted item on the table.

“Haven’t had a bacon burger in weeks.” He said simply, completely ignoring the fact that he was eating _her_ food. He loaded it up with hot sauce and left the fridge wide open before taking an abnormally large bite of the burger. He chewed with his mouth open, unsurprisingly, but didn’t seem to mind Shepard’s company.

“Guess they don’t have bacon where you’re staying. Which is where, exactly?” Shepard asked as she began to put things back into the fridge.

“I’m not in tha business of divulging my whereabouts. Bettah that way.” He dismissed, occasionally taking something out of her hands that she was meaning to put away. “I’m retired though. Got myself a nice spot on a beach. I like the air, doesn’t make me cough like Omega. Also like the girls who serve me drinks, they’re pretty enough to look at.”

“Sounds like a hell of a retirement plan.” She conceded. He kept the remaining half of the burger between his teeth as he opened his second beer and handed it over to her. They clinked together the necks of the bottles in what Shepard figured would be the closest thing to expressing emotion she would get from the mercenary. “Can’t imagine you lounging around _not_ killing something for money, though. What about good ol’ Jessie?”

“Still got her lyin’ ‘round. Never gonna let that rifle go. _Did_ hear Vido got himself blown to bits on Bekenstein or summat. Pissed I didn’t get to off the bastard myself, though.”

“It’s the little things that count, Zaeed.” Shepard said before taking a deep gulp of the beer. It tasted better than she remembered it did. “So you show up to my welcome back party, you’ve got me thinking you might actually keep in touch. Am I growing on you, Massani?”

“Fuck off.” He grumbled, mouth full of food. “If I remember right, it was you what couldn’t leave me alone after every goddamn mission. You’re lost without me, Shepard.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” She downed the rest of her beer and left the empty bottle on the table, turning her back on him. She was almost out of the kitchen when he begrudgingly let out some last words.

“Shepard…Glad you made it.”

She nodded to him and hesitated before turning away completely. Awaiting her in the hallway were her trio of engineers. Adams, Donnelly, and Daniels all grinned and saluted at her approach. They spoke a bit about the Normandy, but mostly about their reassignments. Shepard didn’t want to embarrass Donnelly and Daniels but it was easy to see the way they gravitated towards each other; that they were trying very hard not to be noticeable. It made her smile. Adams talked about how he kept in touch with Dr. Chakwas and that the two remained good friends despite no longer being bound on the Normandy. Shepard remarked that they were all bound as crew, and as friends, with or without a ship. Donnelly began talking about some new type of FBA couplings when Shepard noticed Javik from the corner of her eye. He nodded to her once he had her attention and then started walking towards the door. She excused herself and quickly went after him before the door could close.

“Javik, where are you going?” She asked, watching as he took his time before finally turning back to face her. Almost as if he didn’t know if he wanted to. When he looked at her it was with the same harsh look he always had. The face of a war-torn soldier.

“I wished only to wait for you to awake. I wondered if it was possible for anything to survive…the Reapers. Now I know. And so now I will go to the Cronos Nebula.” Just like that he turned and continued to walk away from her.

“Wait!” She called out, jogging after him. They were in the hallway now, the door to her apartment sliding closed behind them. Even here, she could hear the hum of life. “I’ll—I’ll go with you. To be with you in the end.”

He was quiet for a long time. The Prothean studied her with a blank look, glancing once at the closed door before looking back at her. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he spoke.

“If I were to endure the end with any primitive, I would choose you Commander. Probably.” He managed the smallest of smirks, but despite the joke her heart felt heavy. “This is something I need to do on my own.”

“Before you go…” Shepard reached into her pocket where she kept the memory shard he gave her. She held it in her hand, felt the weight of it in her palm, before holding it out for him. “Look at it one more time. There’s some new memories at the end, ones I think you should see.”

Javik eyed her for a moment before hesitantly reaching out to the memory shard. In holding it together, it allowed them both to witness the memories of a dead race. She saw the good, the height of the race, the incredible technology and architecture and culture, but she also saw the bad. The horrible hundred-year-war, the perversion of the Reapers, the death. The end, though, was what mattered to her. Here she saw her own memories of Javik: The Last Prothean Soldier. The final line of defense against the Reapers, 50,000 years strong. A survivor and a warrior and the last of his kind. A finale worth of a true Prothean. Someone worthy of remembrance.

When the memories ended he allowed himself a moment of silence. He knew he was a good fighter, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she were in his shoes—if on Earth she fell into a cryo-stasis waking up a whole cycle later to everyone gone—she would feel like a failure of a soldier. But she had seen him fight beside her, follow orders, make some of his own. He was unapologetic the way old people are who have lived too long. The way seniors who curse God for taking everyone from them but seemingly forgetting about them. His whole body seemed to relax, head bowing a little, as if the expectations of a dead race were finally lifted from his shoulders. She only hoped he would find comfort in the fact that he’d made his people proud—he’d made _her_ proud. Finally he held out his hand for her to shake.

“Thank you, Commander. You are a worthy leader of your people. Now that you have defeated the Reapers, I can finally rest. I will return to the ghosts of my kind. Goodbye, Commander.”

“Goodbye, Javik.”

He dropped her hand and turned from her for the last time. She watched as he moved further away, every part of her wanting to act on the instinct to preserve life. To stop him, convince him somehow to stay. But this was his life, his decision. She couldn’t interfere, no matter how much losing another friend would sting. When the elevator doors closed behind him her gut wrenched, and she sat down for a moment in front of the glass. Shepard kept telling herself that this was what he wanted, that he would finally be at peace, but of course those words are only ever good for the people on the elevator, never the ones stuck weighed down with grief in the hallway.

If he had taught her anything, though, it was that carrying the burden of lost ones could be done. If he found the strength to find what destroyed his galaxy 50,000 years later and fight back, she could shoulder this sorrow and take five steps back to her friends. She hoped no one would ask her, because she truly did not have the energy to explain they were losing someone else. Shepard found herself wondering what Liara would make of it. _You are a worthy leader of your people_ , he’d said. She wanted to live up to that. So she pushed off the ground, strengthened her resolve, and went back to her crew.

Garrus was waiting by the doorway when she got in, his attempt at masking the worry failing horribly. Give the guy a sniper rifle and he can hold back waves of Omega thugs for days on end, but make him think his girlfriend might be upset and he loses it. _I guess that’s why I picked him_. He settled for putting his hand around her waist.

“So Lola, you gonna come with?” James asked as the crew came back together in the main room.

“Come with?” She raised an eyebrow at the Lieutenant.

“Scars, you didn’t tell her?” He chided Garrus, leaning against the fireplace. “You woke up just in time for the biggest party the galaxy has ever _had_! People from all over are coming to the Citadel. Every club is gonna be packed. Tons of drinks, music pumping.”

“Sounds like my kind of night.” Jack smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. “You should go, Shepard. Test your biotics out with any asshole who dogs after you for an autograph.”

“I have already arranged for all the crewmates of the Normandy to have access to the VIP sections of the club of your choosing, Shepard.” EDI announced, folding her hands behind her back. “While it will not be exclusive, it will minimize the amount of unwanted attention. My diagnostics indicate most people are still not aware of your return.”

“I’d kind of like to keep it that way.” Shepard rubbed the back of her neck, dreading the thought of dealing with the public.

“Not for long, I’m afraid.” Liara said from over near the piano, omni-tool before her. “It appears the council received word of your arrival. They wish to speak with you, and are sending an escort.”

“Do they think she forgot the way to the Citadel Tower?” Wrex asked sarcastically. Before he could even get another word in, though, someone buzzed the door. The screen came up to show a familiar face, and she quickly let him in.

“Bailey, didn’t expect to see you here.” She said with a smile, eagerly shaking his hand.

“Yeah, well, despite everything that happened I’m still some kind of glorified door man. Why the council wouldn’t want to haul their scaly asses down here is beyond me—no offense.” He said to the aliens in the room. “Anyways, I figure you can take your damn time after what you did. So whenever you want to go, you just let me know.”

Shepard took a moment to speak to her crewmates, deciding that they could all meet at the club Purgatory’s VIP section in about an hour when the party would be starting station-wide. Purgatory was the best option she had—Chora’s den was nothing but a strip club, Flux was half casino, and the Darkstar Lounge was too small. Plus, they served better drinks at Purgatory, as Garrus was happy to point out. After that they all said their goodbyes and filed out of the apartment, leaving Shepard alone with Garrus and Bailey.

“So what happened to C-Sec after the crucible went off?” She asked, the three of them sitting down on the couches before the fireplace. Garrus offered to go get some drinks, to which Bailey accepted (making abundantly clear that he was _not_ turning into Harkin and making a habit of drinking on the job).

“I gotta tell ya, Shepard, it was a hellhole. Bodies everywhere, the whole galaxy darkside, systems going crazy. Even the Keepers were wonky, and _that_ was what really scared us. But somehow we…made it work. Started with the priorities and worked our way down. Actually, that civilian militia you authorized back during war has been a huge help. A lot of Geth have shown up from Rannoch to help out too. We kept them mostly behind doors—figured people were still a little too shaken up about the Reapers to deal with more synthetics so soon.”

Shepard managed a laugh at that. Garrus returned with drinks and they sipped away. At Shepard’s inquiry, Bailey started to talk about his family. It had been tough for him during the war to make any reliable contact, but he recently got through.

“I guess I got off easy, only losing my wife—ex-wife. I brought the kids out here as soon as I could, not that the Citadel was in any better shape than Earth. She went down fighting, you know. Guns blazing and battle cries, holding off a brute while the kids—Anyways.” He quickly looked away, clearing his throat and taking a generous gulp from his drink. “If you can believe it, we already stopped someone dealing red sand again. But, I guess that’s a sure sign the galaxy is starting to piece itself back together.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Shepard raised her glass and the three of them drank. At that, she got to her feet and turned to Garrus, promising she would meet up with him later. He shook hands with Bailey before leaving while Shepard stayed behind to clean up the apartment a little before heading out too.

Bailey had a C-Sec shuttle parked outside the entrance to Tiberius Towers, and didn’t hesitate at all to put the sirens on so they could bypass any traffic. Shepard wondered if she was really ready to deal with the council after the overwhelming day she’d had, but she figured there wasn’t much of a choice. Bailey parked outside of the Presidium Tower, ignoring the glances from on-lookers as they headed towards the elevator. On the ride up, a couple of news reports read out on the loudspeaker. One in particular stood out: an update on the latest technology being studied on Feros by ExoGeni, and the lead scientist Lizbeth Baynam. She was apparently looking into the way the remnant of the Thorian created almost a hive-mind for the colonists. The report ended when the elevator stopped. The doors opened slowly to the familiar entrance to the council chambers, though there was a figure waiting for the elevator before them.

“Commander Shepard.” Primarch Victus shook her hand and nodded to Bailey. “I heard you were on the Citadel.”

“Primarch.” She nodded. “How’s the situation on Palaven?”

“Admiral Hackett is giving us all he can spare in return for our help on Earth. It will take time, but I have every faith we will all be stable eventually.” He paused, studying her for a moment before laughing. “After the First Contact War, I never thought a day of such…willing cooperation would come.”

“I think that goes for Humans too.” Bailey remarked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“While I have you, Commander, I thought you should know…I decided to record your name in the history of the ninth platoon for your part as a catalyst to its successful final mission.”

“Thank you, sir.” She was a little stunned, but also a little stung from any mention of a _catalyst_.

“Shepard, you are an example to Turians everywhere of dedication to the mission and a truly valiant soldier. A recommendation was also brought forward to me from two of our generals that we should award you the Turian Nova Cluster medal. The highest honour among Turians.”

“I was just doing my part, Primarch.”

Her disagreement didn’t seem to matter much. He promised that when there was time they would have a true ceremony for it, but for now verbal confirmation from the Primarch was as good as law. He wished her luck and good health before taking his leave.

“Spirits go with you, Shepard.”

They waited until the elevator began its long descent before turning to enter the main chambers. There was a slew of dignitaries on the upper balconies as usual, but as they approached the podium Shepard felt out of place. Bailey waited behind, but there was no Anderson to follow her to the heat of a council meeting. Hell, some part of her would have even settled for Udina. He had always been an asshole, but whatever Cerberus did to make him partake in a coup…it wasn’t him.

“Commander Shepard.” The Asari Councillor bowed her head. “We are relieved to see you in good health. Welcome back to the Citadel.”

“Thank you.” She said stiffly. Where Anderson once stood as Councillor, the Earth ambassador Dominic Osoba now reigned.

“You have done much for us, Commander.” He said in a strong voice, a leader’s voice. The balconies were full of people hanging on every word. “I have not forgotten what you did for my son.”

“Nor I for your part in saving our lives.” The Turian Counsellor continued.

“ _More_ than once.” The Asari Councillor added. “We have asked you here before this council for a number of reasons, Shepard. Firstly, and most importantly, to sincerely thank you. Your actions, drive, and courage over these past years are the reason our galactic civilizations endured.”

“Secondly, to…apologize.” The Salarian Councillor Valern said hesitantly. Shepard knew that she had left on bad terms with Dalatrass Linron in deciding to cure the genophage. “We were wrong to dismiss your claims, and had you not persisted I doubt we would be here.”

“Thirdly, to offer you a gift.” Dominic said warmly. She raised an eyebrow, shifting from one foot to the other. “You are more than just a Spectre, a soldier, a Human. You have done greater deeds than any of us here can boast. Ask of us what you will, and it shall be done.”

“Anything?” Shepard asked, stunned. The Turian Councillor pointed out that they already had plans for a Shepard memorial statue on the Citadel, though it would take time. Without hesitation, she knew what she really wanted. “I don’t need a statue, Councillors. What I want is the truth. I’ve been down to the Citadel archives, I know you have the whole story—from Saren to the war—and it’s about time everyone understands why so many lives were lost. I want you to release the whole story to the public.”

“Done.” Dominic said immediately. The other Councillors didn’t look so certain, but they _had_ agreed to give her anything. “We will de-classify the records at once and release a report to the press. If you would be interested, Commander, I’m sure you could shed some light on quite a few blank spots we have.”

They discussed a few more things like the upholding of her Spectre status, the leave they would grant her to recover, and other administrative issues. When they were finally finished Bailey was waiting, ready to lead her wherever it was she wanted to go. Shepard explained she needed to go back to her apartment first, but when they exited the elevator onto the Presidium they were absolutely swarmed with reporters. Every auto-cam hovered close and shone bright lights on her while Bailey tried to keep the people at bay. Everyone was shouting a thousand different questions, all desperate for something to include in a headline. Shepard shielded her eyes, squinting at the crowd and recognizing two of the faces.

“Diana Allers, Khalisah Al-Jilani, you can come through.” She said with a deep sigh. “The rest of you, you’ll get an interview once you show proof of donating to the Emily Wong Foundation.”

Allers dropped all pretense of professionalism and drowned in pleasantries. She asked about the Normandy crew and gushed about her Battlespace ratings and begged for an interview at the apartment before Khalisah jumped in with the hard questions. She roped the both of them in, allowing three questions each, and ending with a broadcast that the Council was going to release an in-depth classified report of the invasion in the future. That seemed to be the big news they wanted, and after a word of thanks they disappeared to the nearest cab to cut together their respective segments.

Khalisah and Shepard had never seen eye to eye, but Allers had served on her ship. If she was being honest, Shepard had expected the dolled up journalist to bail as soon as things got too hot. But she instead stood by the crew till the end, and now she would cash in the massive paycheck she would get for having the only recordings of the things the Normandy crew did in the final push.

Bailey finally finished dealing with the rest of the crowd, but Shepard opted to catch a cab back to the apartment alone. They said their goodbyes and promised to keep each other in the loop before she got into the skycar, entering the destination and sitting back for the ride. She had seen the views of the Presidium and the rest of the Citadel go by in blurs more times than she could count, but this time it felt like different. As if every part of her was impossibly aware of the fact that this, everything, and everyone, was almost lost.

But they were here, and so was she. When Shepard finally made it back to the apartment she stood in the main room aimlessly, looking around as if it would make her feel better. It just made her feel incomplete. Missing a piece. Hollow. She pushed all of these feelings down and buried them, marching upstairs and heading into the shower. It was the first time she could take a real count of all the scars she’d be left with, but in a way they were comforting. As if only slightly justifying that she’d made it. At least it hadn’t been easy.

By the time she was done and all dolled up, she found herself standing blank-faced in front of her clothes. It shouldn’t have been that difficult to just pick out a dress to wear, but the longer she stood there the more she felt wholly disconnected from the idea of going. She was here in Anderson’s apartment, not her own. Shepard couldn’t even remember when her own belongings started to litter the place alongside his. She had been so certain that he would come back, so certain that either they both would survive or that they’d die together. This half and half business…

Shepard went out into the apartment and came back with one of Anderson’s data pads, sitting down under the gun bench and pressing play. He had been asked to talk about her, and hearing the recording almost felt like he was giving her orders or advice again. She listened to the whole thing through and was going to listen to it again when she got a call on her omni-tool. She accepted it and smiled at Garrus on the display.

“Hey Shepard, I was just checking in.” He said, the echoes of Purgatory’s massive sound system booming behind him. “Though if that’s what you’re planning on coming in, I _might_ suggest moving the party to the apartment.”

She looked down before remembering she only had her bra and underwear on. After rolling her eyes, Shepard promised she’d be there soon and ended the call. Picking a dress at random, she tucked her dog tags into the material and headed to Purgatory.

When she got out of the sky car, it was into a much larger crowd than she was used to outside the club. _I guess it really is station-wide_. Moving through the people, she finally caught sight of Garrus beside the door. A female Turian just his height was leaning towards him, and if Shepard didn’t know any better she would have said it was the same Turian at the bar the one time they had tried date night. Garrus barely even registered her, though, and went straight to Shepard as soon as he saw her.

“Looks like I’ve got a bit of competition.” She joked, nodding back towards the Turian. He pulled her close and kissed her, both hands pressing against her back.

“Not even remotely.” He replied with ease, pulling away to take in the sight of her. “Though, I think with that outfit I’ll be the one in for trouble.”

She elbowed him in the gut and pushed past to enter the club. When they entered the first room, she was immediately singled out and approached.

“Commander Shepard, is that really you?”

“Conrad.” She tried to mask the exhaustion, but she was _really_ sick of running into him.

“I thought you were still on Earth!” He exclaimed, coming up to her. “Actually there’s something I wanted your opinion on. I’ve decided after doing my part in taking down Cerberus and that red sand dealer on Ilium that I should really lead my own operatives. Sort of like the N7 program, but _better_. I call it, the N8 program! Exclusive training from Conrad Verner, best friend and mentor to Spectre Shepard.”

“Really, Conrad?” She tried so hard to let him down easy time after time, but her patience was running thin.

“It’ll take off, Shepard, don’t you worry.” He placed his hand on Shepard’s shoulder, making Garrus tense up. “Some of my old contacts have told me about The Illusive Man’s new plans. He’s not very happy with you and someone has to stop him.”

“Hate to break it to you, Conrad, but my gun already stopped him.”

“That’s…But my contacts…You _really_ shouldn’t lie Shepard.” He said, eyebrows furrowed. When he released her it was with a bit of a shove, one that made the Commander raise her eyebrows. Her Turian, though, reacted completely differently. With one hand he picked up Verner by the throat and carried him, slamming him into the nearest wall. It reminded Shepard of the way he’d dealt with Harkin in the search for Sidonis. She hated to admit, but seeing him like that turned her on. Whatever he said to Verner was lost over the music, but the strange Human didn’t even look at her on his way out. Garrus returned to her side and cleared his throat.

“Should we go in?” He asked simply, as though nothing had happened. She smiled, taking the lead and entering the club.

It was different than she remembered it, maybe because there were significantly more people this time around. Many aspects resembled the place as it was during the war, but there was less desperation. Less fear.

Still the blaring music, though. It pumped furiously through the speakers, echoing off of every surface and flooding through the bodies. There was an electric charge in the club, this buzzing feeling that hit Shepard every time she brushed against someone. Seeing so many people here, seeing them all alive, it affected her in a way nothing had before. This simple image of people dancing, it struck her. Because everyone was beyond elated, everyone was rejoicing at the fact that they’d survived. They’d made it—survived.

As they moved through the crowds, Garrus’ hand never leaving hers, Shepard could see that some people were actually crying. Everyone was holding onto someone, as if needing the reaffirmation she did that this wasn’t all a dream. The notion made her feel better. A lot of people were completely shitfaced though, and that made her feel less guilty about wanting to get that way herself.

When they made it to the upper level she met up with some of her crew at the bar, Jacob immediately handing her a drink. He announced over the music that when the bartender found out who they were, they’d been promised free drinks the whole night.

“And we will be taking generous advantage of that offer.” Garrus said as he ordered something for himself. The couple of drinks Shepard had already had during the day had lost their effect, and so she still had a good amount of tolerance to max out until she was in trouble. It may not have been the best decision, especially given that she was just released from hospital, but if her body couldn’t handle the amount of drunken celebration required for kicking the Reapers asses then it wasn’t a body worth having.

Shepard didn’t know who was more of an enabler: Vega or Garrus. The Lieutenant kept challenging her to try different things that burned and seared and stung and froze, and for once she could accept all of his bets. Each time she downed the contents of a glass his grin grew.

“I’m finally getting my Lola to loosen up!” He laughed, sliding her something else. Garrus straightened up a little at the statement.

“ _Your_ Lola?” He challenged, taking a step forward. Vega was quick to laugh it off.

“Relax, Scars. You’re the only one she sees. Even drunk.” He slapped his hand on the Turian’s shoulder and nodded as he relaxed. Shepard rolled her eyes at the two of them and set down the empty glass.

“The cavalry has arrived!” Joker exclaimed as Shepard’s female crewmates approached. EDI offered Jeff a smile, but Jack wasted no time with pleasantries.

“Come on, Shepard.” She said briskly, grabbing hold of the Commander’s arm and carrying her off. The others followed but the men were left behind at the bar.

“Where are we going?” Shepard asked nervously as they moved through the masses on the dance floor. When they reached the end, Jack directed her voice at the Asari dancers on the platforms.

“Go take your lunch break.” She roared at them. They straightened up and crossed their arms at her, but the three of them stumbled when Jack used her biotics to pull the levitating platform down to her level. “Spectre’s orders. Get off.”

“Jack, you _know_ I can’t—”

“Relax, Shepard.” She said over the music, heaving the hesitant Commander onto the platform. Miranda, Tali, Liara, and EDI joined them. Samara was nowhere to be seen and Shepard was pretty sure that Traynor was standing uncomfortably on the sidelines, probably wishing she could hide behind the bar making drinks. Jack reached out and put her hands on Shepard’s waist. “You gotta stop worrying about looking stupid. Just let the bass rip you apart. Move like this. Let go, for fuck’s sake.”

Shepard hesitated at the instructions, casting a look around as the platform began to move again. Miranda and Tali wasted no time, immediately moving in the incredibly fluid way the both of them always did. With a deep breath Shepard tried to let everything go. Her grief over Anderson, over Javik, over everyone she’d lost. She looked around at the miraculous way that even with such persistent damage, the galaxy had endured. They could afford to take time to party hard. It was over. They had won.

As she let all the muscles in her body relax, the beat of the music changed and the Commander carefully watched her friends. Moving her feet idly at first, she incorporated movement with her legs and eventually her waist. She tried to roll her hips right, and after a nod of encouragement from Miranda she gave up all pretense of trying and just let the music flow through her. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back and dancing to celebrate the life that existed.

It was liberating in a strange way, leaving her feeling the way she did after an unexpectedly successful mission. It was the relief of realizing you still had another thermal clip left in an end fight. It was the peace of the shuttle taking you home. The group of them controlled the platform and eyes were drawn to them more and more each minute. A couple of times Shepard looked across the room to where Garrus was standing and took pride in the way his eyes were stuck on her.

The music blared on and the people kept dancing and all across the Citadel alcohol supplies were being drained. In fact, Shepard realized that celebrations like this were happening all over the galaxy. Amidst rubble and ruins and broken families and mass graves, entire planets were finding ways to heal. To persevere. She found herself wondering what Earth looked like right about now.

Eventually the group of them grew tired of dancing and retired back to the bar. The whole club made room for them and the survivors of the Normandy drank with their Commander. Garrus hovered close, making some sort of physical contact the whole time. As if she might disappear on him again. Just like Shepard had promised, she carried over a drink for Joker with two giant yellow umbrellas. He grinned at the gesture and she nodded to him before telling everyone she needed a bit of a breather.

Descending the stairs, she threw a look back at her crew. At her anchors, her motivators, her perpetual backup. Vega was telling a joke to Kaidan, Joker, EDI, and Cortez. Traynor was busy chatting with Samara and Tali, while Liara appeared to be in deep conversation with Miranda. Grunt and Wrex were nowhere to be found, likely making their own party with ryncol and stolen c-sec shuttles. She hoped that they didn’t hurt anyone. Zaeed was explaining something to Garrus using whole lot of hand gestures, and Kasumi decloaked behind Jacob suddenly enough to make him spill his drink. Shepard found comfort beyond measure at the sight of them all.

“You’re—You’re Commander Shepard, aren’t you?” An Alliance soldier called out, drawing Shepard from her thoughts. She approached and Shepard hesitated, expecting a desperate slur of condemnation, of someone finally calling her out on all the things she should have done. “I can’t believe it. This is…”

“Such an honour.” Another said, joining his comrade. The both of them saluted and Shepard returned the gesture before reaching out to shake their hands. “I can’t believe you’re alive, we all—well, I’m just glad you’re here so we can thank you in person.”

“Is that Shepard?” A Salarian asked, approaching. His uniform designated him as Special Tasks. “Madwin Kirosa, honour to meet you.”

They all started to pour in once it was publicized who she was. The attention made Shepard’s skin crawl. Give her a hundred husks and she’d gladly fight her way out; but put too many eyes on her doing anything less than waiting for orders and she wanted to escape. She tried to be as cordial as possible, accepting the thanks in a flurried haze. Her mouth was on autopilot, delivering responses to the questions asked while she looked for an out.

“I should go.” She said eventually, pretending her comm was ringing. They hesitantly stepped back and let her pass.

The air outside the club was noticeably cooler, but what she valued most was the significant decrease in population. By now it was well into the night and most people were either inside or had moved on to different party locations. Shepard took in a deep breath and let it out, leaning against the wall not far from an Elcor. And, as if by karma, her comm did begin to ring.

“So my sources were right. The Great Commander Shepard lives.” Aria T’Loak had never been one to express anything close to joy or praise. The fact that she had even bothered to check personally was as close as Shepard would get to a friendly gesture. “Well, I suppose I should thank you for taking care of the Reapers. It did, after all, allow me to resume control over Omega.”

“I’m glad there’s still an Omega left to rule.” Shepard managed lightly, somewhat glad for the distraction that the Mercenary Queen provided.

“My forces may have been considerably diminished thanks to the war, but I suppose it was a price that needed paying. The Blood Pack’s Vorcha will regenerate quickly enough…Though I do wish I hadn’t lost so many Eclipse. Especially my commandos. But don’t worry Shepard. I’ll keep my people in line…So long as you keep your business out of the Terminus Systems.”

After that, Aria terminated the call. No goodbye, no well-wishes, no nothing. Realistically it was stupid for Shepard to have expected anything else. The doors to the club opened and her Turian walked over to her side. She gave him a weak smile and took his hand. He came up close, causing her to stand up straighter. Laying his hand on her cheek, he leaned down to kiss her.

“I love you.” He said in a voice so quiet and quick she barely caught it. She promised she loved him back and kept hold of his hand as he moved away. “Are you doing alright, Shepard?”

“Just a little worn out.” She admitted, feeling the distant boom of the music through the wall behind her. Garrus offered that they could call it a night, but Shepard decided that being worn out meant she was alive. Everyone else was exhausted too, so she could muster the courage needed to go back in and party. He double checked to make sure, but eventually followed her back into the club.

The night continued, the parties raged on, the Citadel spun in slow revolutions. Commander Shepard lost herself in friends and laughter, in booze and sloppy bar food. She took every drink that a stranger or crewmate bought for her. She let out every laugh, accepted every hug, and held every hand outstretched to her. Immersing herself in the now was something she had almost never done. There was always a to-do list. Always a finish line to be met. Always a battle, in one form or another. But that night, she let go. She spent time that was for once hers to spend.

And when the party died down and the lot of them at last parted ways, she knew that the goodbyes were finally, _finally_ , not forever. Letting these people, this family, out of her sight no longer posed the threat that they would never see each other again. They would all be there to help heal the galaxy. So when Shepard finally made it back to her bed in the gifted apartment, her Turian in tow, it was light steps and an aired out conscience. Whatever life brought, she felt it couldn’t compare to what she had been through. And it could never destroy the bonds she’d made. _We are many. We are more_.

When sleep finally took hold of Shepard, it was not always kind. Two separate times she had awoken in absolute panic, body overtaken by the night terrors that had plagued her for years now. In the back of her mind she knew if she ever actually followed through with getting checked out they’d slap the PTSD label on her faster than she could say Normandy. But the fact was up until now there hadn’t been time for something as trivial as a therapy session. Garrus was the only therapy she’d ever allowed herself.

He was awake with her in an instant, as always. As though his body was attuned so perfectly to hers that the moment she went into a fit he felt the need to wake up. His hands worked to settle her until the screaming finally stopped, and his arms wound around her while she tried to keep her breathing in check. He kept reminding her that she was safe, that it was over, that she’d made it. Having him there soothed her more than any medication ever could, and she gripped hold of him tightly as the shakes finally began to pass.

She recalled their time after the suicide mission, when he unexpectedly catered to these flashes of absolute fear that took over her sleeping self. They’d been laying there in the aftermath for the tenth time and Shepard explained that after what she did with the Batarian colony, she had to go to the Admiralty board. It was the right thing to do.

“I’ll drop everyone off wherever they want.” Shepard said, moreso to herself than to Garrus. “It’ll be better that way. Keep you all out of an Alliance interrogation cell.”

“Do you know what will happen?” He’d asked her in the darkness of the captain’s cabin. The stars, so far away, were the only light.

“I’m not sure…They could dismiss me. They could lock me up. I might be…out of contact for a while.” She could feel him tense up at the mention, and she turned to face him. They could barely see one another in the darkness, so she reached out and lay her fingers on the cybernetics patch holding his scarred face together. “I don’t know what will happen…but I need you to know I don’t want this to stop. I care about you, Garrus. I have for a long time.”

“I know you’re only doing what you think is right…” He said in a small voice, quietly accepting the fate she was proposing. “I’ll…I’ll wait for you. If that’s what you want.”

Shepard wondered how she’d ever managed to lure him in. Whatever his reasons, she felt blessed. Out of all the things that had gone wrong, she was _so_ happy Garrus wasn’t one of them.

The artificial day had started long ago on the Citadel, but as the two of them woke in the apartment it was with grogginess and a hell of a hangover. Somewhere in the back of her mind Shepard was cognizant of the night terrors that had occurred, but the marks along her skin reminded her that the _whole_ night hadn’t been bad. Garrus had the amazing ability to fall asleep absolutely anywhere, into a deep sleep, but be ready and alert at a moment’s notice.

For a while she lay curled against him, trying to take hold of the few moments of peace that waking up allowed. But without fail the thoughts began to pour back in, began to chew away at the scrambled mess of her insides. There was so much to be done, even in the victorious aftermath. While many desperate situations may have been fixed, no part of her doubted that there was still very much a need for aid all across the galaxy in a million different ways. The notion made her anxious, made her restless. Shepard wanted to go out and help rebuild.

“You _really_ should stay in bed.” The Turian said in a sleepy voice, keeping her down with his arm when she tried to sneak out of their bed. “Doctor’s orders, and all.”

“I’m just going to clean up a bit.” She said easily, gently prying his arm off and getting up. Finding her crumpled clothes that had been scattered on the floor, Shepard made herself decent and started to tidy the mess they’d made in their hunt for the bed last night. Garrus sat up and began to do the same, always stealing looks at her from the corner of his eye.

Coming across a number of data pads throughout the room, Shepard began to shelve them according to the matter recorded on them, but stopped at the realization that one of them was not Anderson’s. She took the data pad that had been left for her by the Salarian STG on behalf of Mordin and noticed that one of the entries at the bottom had never been played all the way through. Immediately consumed by the task, Shepard sat down on the edge of the bed and scrolled to the proper time marker.

“Unsure as to whether romantic attachment to Garrus will still apply, know the subject is touchy especially when breakup is painful. Still, want to say this in case. Remember nephew? Spoke of him in Normandy’s Lab. Murix Solus, promising scientific career. Studies reproduction across species, specializes in genetics.”

Shepard absently looked up at Garrus as he sat down beside her. The both of them listened intently to the sporadic speech of their Salarian comrade. The sound of his voice made her painfully nostalgic, so the Turian placed a comforting hand on her back.

“Murix studies biological methods used by Asari to incorporate genetic material from both parents into a single fetus, and posits he can provide reproductive alternative for inter-species non-Asari partners. Shepard is physically sound, exceptional potential subject for Human trials. Exceptional potential mother. Would like to see results. Though, unsure if universe can handle offspring of Shepard. Especially if crossed with vigilante Turian. Hmm. Murix nothing like Maelon, though. Can vouch for his ethical prowess. He is my favourite, after all. Would be interesting to see offspring as carbon and dextro based.”

After that there was the sound of some beakers and chemicals being moved around, along with what sounded like a small explosion. A few minutes of silence followed before Mordin started to hum to himself, and the recording eventually ended. Shepard held the data pad in her hand and looked over at Garrus, eyebrows raised.

“Well, I _was_ in favour of seeing what the first Human-Turian baby would look like.” He said simply, pulling her a little closer. Shepard smiled distantly, mind engulfed with the possibility that had just been presented.

“Let’s hope it gets my nose, not yours.” She said lightly, musing at the notion that she could possibly have a child that was as much Garrus as it was her. “How did everyone even find out about us again? Were they not taxed enough with the suicidal missions I led you all on?”

“Well, it may have had something to do with the fact that you insisted on…what’s the Human term…’ _christening’_ just about every room in the Normandy.” Garrus shrugged, taking some satisfaction in the way she rolled her eyes. “Everyone was bound to hear you at some point.”

“It wasn’t _every_ room.” Shepard said in her defense, lightly elbowing him. He faced her completely, tilting his head incredulously.

“Oh sure. Just the forward battery, the AI core, the observation decks, the cargo holds…”

“Okay, okay.”

“…The engineering subdeck, the war room, the airlock, and even the time in front of the galaxy map.”

“I didn’t think Traynor would be back so soon, alright?” She argued, laughing at the reality that this was sort of her doing. “But you may have a point.”

She watched him for a moment before he leaned down to kiss her. Being with him helped to root her down, but she still itched to be back out in the fight. Or at least, the aid. Garrus got up from her side and she went to place the data pad alongside the others. Shepard still had to collect the rest of the data pads left by Anderson and put them in a safe place. In the back of her mind she debated whether or not to ask Glyph to collect any vids or interviews of Anderson he could find on the extranet and help her compile some sort of memorial. Then she remembered that she had already signed herself up for writing this council press release, and wondered if maybe she could as for EDI’s help.

“I don’t know all that much about Human customs—frankly, the vids Joker sent me didn’t cover that much past sex.” Garrus said as she turned to him. He was standing close, reaching up a hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “But some parts of our culture _do_ overlap. Not that I’m very good at my part anyways…”

“I think you can take orders well enough.” She teased, offering a smirk. Only when he gave a nervous laugh did she realize something was wrong. “What is it?”

“Well this went a whole lot easier in my head.” He mumbled, holding out his hand and presenting her with a small ring with a purple tint and laid with glittering jewels. “I know they aren’t diamonds, but the band is the most precious metal we have on Palaven, the stones are only found on Earth.”

“So Archangel wants to settle down with a twice-dead Spectre?” Shepard asked playfully, stepping closer to him and placing her hands on his chest. He gave a quiet sigh and stared her in the eyes.

“As if it could be anyone else.” He leaned closer, lingering a short distance away from her lips.

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.” She closed the distance, bringing one hand to the back of his head and pressing her body against his. It was a kiss of promise, of sincerity, full of the hope of a happily ever after. When she pulled away he looked nervously between her and the ring still in his grasp. “Yes, for the official record.”

He wasted no time, gently taking her hand and sliding the ring on. When the gesture was complete Shepard found herself settling into a state of almost disbelief. No part of her had ever expected her life to turn out this way. Not just Garrus, not just the possibility of a family, but her survival. She’d resigned herself to an early, bloody, violent death in the deep alleys of Earth’s megatropolis more times than she could remember.

Yet she had achieved so much more. With help from numerous people along the way and no shortage of sheer dumb luck, she had survived. The galaxy had survived. There would be other battles to face and tough calls to make and people she would lose, eventually, but these were things Shepard could handle. Especially because she had been blessed with such loyalty from her crew, her friends, her family.

“Heard it was quite the party last night on the Citadel.” Hackett’s voice sounded out from the big screen in front of them as Shepard transferred the call from her personal comm. After her salute to the admiral he continued on. “It was a hell of a sight here on Earth, too.”

“I hope you took part in some of the celebrations, sir?” Shepard inquired, folding her hands behind her back out of habit. The admiral laughed and shook his head.

“Unfortunately not. We’ve got a to-do list so long across the colonies—hell, across the whole galaxy—that the fifth fleet couldn’t afford it.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Shepard asked immediately, ignoring the deep sigh from Garrus. Hackett locked his jaw and cast his eyes to the side, shifting around for a moment.”

“I was hoping to avoid asking you, to be honest. You do need your time to heal, hell even retire. But there’s a small recon mission on the planet Nodacrux we’re needing to complete. All of our teams are tasked to capacity and seeing as the Normandy is available…”

Shepard looked over at Garrus, giving him a small smile. He sighed in a defeated tone and turned to Hackett, asking for the details. While he gave them the debriefing, the Commander began to draw up a message to send to her crew, for any of them who were up for a flight. The replies started to come in before Hackett was even finished, and Shepard felt the comfortable sensation of having a goal. With her crew and her ship, they would get it done.

“I guess one more mission couldn’t hurt.”


End file.
